


All the Truths Once Left Unspoken

by macabrecabra



Series: In Time, This Too Shall Pass Companion Pieces [1]
Category: Diablo (Video Game), Diablo III
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Prequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-07-25 01:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20024014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macabrecabra/pseuds/macabrecabra
Summary: A Prequel to "In Time, This Too Shall Pass"Heaven was not without its secrets or its hidden past. For one of the most infamous angels of Heaven, it was those very secrets that would be both his fall and salvation. This is just one story of the past, the story of a monster, an angel, and the subtle threads that binds all things in a delicate balance.(Prequel story focusing on Malthael's past as it relates to my longer fic!)





	1. Birth

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY the first of the side-stories begins! This one focuses on Malthael from birth to Chapter 26 of "In Time, This Too Shall Pass". It is an interesting story and it is one I can't tell in the main bit of writing, so felt it is fitting to get the story out here! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

It was not often that Magtherius felt the subtle, cold coil of uncertainty within his resonance. In all that he did, the archangel of virtue had always held strong to his beliefs did not let doubt echo in his words. As the ruler of Heaven and the leader of the angiris council, it was duty to be absolutely certain about all decisions he made.

Now though, he could not help the twinge of worry that murmured in his soul, the creeping poison of fear and uncertainty that added a sour note to his usual boisterous resonance. It only spoke volumes of the blasphemy he and the council were about to commit in secret, away from the prying eyes of the rest of Heaven. 

What they were about to attempt could be seen as abominable to many, perhaps eve something worthy of trial and execution. 

What they were doing though could be the very salvation of Heaven if it bore the results he had predicted though and turn the tide against Hell to even out the balance once more. The chance had to be made, even if a part of his soul still quailed at the idea that he and the council were even going to attempt to see if his theories were correct.

He hoped his theories were correct. A lifetime of study by his tribe and thousands of years of ridicule and disdain for his people had to pay off.

Magtherius raised his head, glancing over his shoulder as he heard the doors to the chamber open, his wings tensed before they relaxed as he recognized the familiar resonance of the archangel of victory. 

“Tyranius, I was starting to worry you would not come.”

“I agree to this madness, along with the rest of the council,” The tall, imposing she-angel growled as she stalked forward, barely glancing to the other three archangels in the room, “All I can say, Magtherius, is this scheme of yours better not endanger Heaven or the arch or you and I will have words about your practices.” 

“It will not, Tyranius,” Magtherius assured her, hands clasped behind his back, “and if what is created is not of Heaven, as I have assured you, it will be dealt with and we will never make this attempt again. I stand by what I said when I propose this: we give it one try.”

“Do you think this purification ceremony will work?” a quiet voice asked.

Magtherius glanced over to the right, to the smallest archangel in the room. Contrary to their name, the archangel of joy, Valenriel, held nothing akin to happiness in their resonance. There was concern there and a great deal of skeptisism, but under it all was curiosity and it was that, above all else that had gotten the reluctant archangel to agree. 

The archangel of virtue gave a nod to Valenriel after a moment of consideration, wings flicking out, “If my theory is correct, a concentrated and powerful light song focusing the blessings of the arch should be able to purify the soul in question,” Magtherius looked about the circle at the four other archangels gathered about, “Used in combination of course with some relics taken from different parts of creation to help sanctify this ceremony as much as possible given what we are dealing with.”

“I do not like this,” Tyranius growled, crossing her arms, “None have ever tried to purify the soul of a demon. Most simply burn at the touch of anything holy.” 

“If everything can be corrupted, then so too can everything be purified,” Another voice spoke up, “It is rather simple logic.” 

Tyranius glanced sharply over at the speaker, a tall male angel that was leaning casually against a wall, “If it is so simple, Killenthriel, then why have our ancestors never attempted this?”

Killenthriel, the archangel of judgement, chuckled and gave a shrug as he straightened up to his feet, “Because they were afraid to try. That they thought there was no way to control the environment in which an attempt could be made.” 

“This still feels like it is too good to be true,” Tyranius growled, “Like we are stepping into some carefully set up trap of Hell meant to prey upon our hope in this.”

“That is always a reality of dealing with anything involving Hell,” the archangel beside Tyranius murmured, their disattached wings flickering in and out of sight, “But I assume Magtherius has taken every precaution to ensure this ceremony is in our favor.” 

“Indeed I have Desindeius,” Magtherius said, nodding to the hovering archangel, “I have sealed and bound the demonic soul in such a way, it cannot be released until we wish it so.”

The archangel of destiny, Desindeius gave a small nod in return, glancing to Tyranius as if to silently show that it was as they said. The archangel of victory though, remained rather unconvinced, crossing her arms and leaning forward with no small amount of suspicion, “And how, Magtherius, have you bound a demon soul?”

The archangel of virtue could hear a murmur in the resonances of the other archangels wondering the same thing. He gave a glance about before reaching down into the satchel at his side and carefully withdrawing a large object, wrapped carefully in thick cloth, “In Pandemonium, there are crystals within the earth, some more powerful than others. My people have found that if they are cut in a certain way, it is possible to trap souls within. We calle them soulstones.”

“Soulstones?” Valenriel asked, cocking their head, “Why have you not shared this before?”

“There was no use for them really. They are only temporary holding,” Magtherius explained, “At most, it can be used to capture a demon soul to detain them, but in time, the demon’s aura will wrap the crystal and be able to spread influence beyond, corrupting the area around. They are not perfect.”

Slowly, he began to unwrap the object, wings tensing, “But they can hold a soul long enough.”

The gathered archangels drew back slightly as Magtherius uncovered the soulstone he had brought. The surface of the crystal was molted black from the red it once was and all in the room could feel the intense evil of Hell that radiated from it. It was a cold energy that was trapped within, but made it seems like all were being watched. 

“A soul of a demon lord of Hell, trapped within a mere stone,” Killenthriel murmured, shaking his head, “It does not seem possible.”

“The stone used for this soulstone is of...very rare and unique property,” Magtherius said, holding up the crystal to the light of the room, “A powerful relic in its own right and a key part of this ceremony. It is linked to the arch in a rather unique way that can help focus our efforts.”

He would explain no further on that. It was best some things were left unknown for now to the council. Some artifacts of power were not meant to be used to their full potential, especially those that could undo reality itself. All they need know was the crystal itself had a connection to the arch.

The surface of the soulstone seemed to absorb all light or perhaps, reject all light and force it away. Within, black energy swirled and moved and despite the feel of it, Magtherius could not help the small sense of sadness in his own resonance. 

If only the others knew that collecting this soul had come at such a terrible sacrifice to the one within.

Magtherius’s wings flicked as he lowered the crystal, looking about the room at the others, “Are we ready to begin?” 

“I do not mean to delay but, I am curious,” Valenriel began, stepping closer slowly, “What is the name of the demon lord you manage to capture?” 

“The lord of death, Zazarok,” Magtherius murmured, looking at the black, molted surface of the soulstone he held, “And the soul was not captured. He gave it freely.”

“Gave it freely?” Tyranius interrupted, “What demon gives up its soul-”

“One that wished to ascend but did not manage to before his time upon this reality was over,” Magtherius interrupted tersely, “And I would not even attempt this ceremony were we not working with a soul that is more cooperative to what we hope to accomplish.”

The archangel of victory scoffed but fell silent, her gaze fixed on the soulstone he held. Killenthriel stepped forward then, hands clasped behind his back, wings arched slightly, “We should not waste time then and have this business done with,” He said, looking about at the others, “We cannot be faulted for attempting this once when all the pieces are in place. If we can purify a pure demonic soul of Hell and have the fiend reborn as one of our kind, it may be a way to reduce Hell’s numbers to increase our own.”

“The potential is too great to pass,” Desindeius agreed, spreading her wings, “We either fail and the demon soul manifests again in the living world and will be banished to the abyss, or we succeed and create the first angel formed of a purified demonic soul. It will tip the finite balance in our favor.”

“Even if it is born angelic, we do not know how it may grow up or what traits may manifest,” Tyranius said with a shake of her head, “It is one thing if we can create a new life, another if it has still the darkness of a demonic heart.”

“Which is why we will wait a while and see how our little experiment plays out,” Killenthriel said with a shrug, “We raise whatever we create, if we can, and if it is how we intended, then we pass the laws to sanctify this ritual.” 

“We are in no rush for results,” Desindeius agreed, looking about at the others, “We should proceed now with haste. Our window of opportunity is small.” 

Magtherius let go of the soul stone, letting it float in the air at the center of the circle the archangels had formed before stepping back, “Then let us put all our hope and belief in the strength that is shared between us, the unity that binds us, and see this through to the end,“ he said firmly, “is everyone ready?”

The archangel of virtue looked about the circle at his fellow archangels, as they gave their murmured confirmations and shifted into position. Each archangel was wing to wing with one another, forming almost a barrier with their forms alone. At the center, the soul stone continued to hover, the black interior swirling about more. Below it, a basin had been set, a brightly glowing liquid humming within. 

This ritual required ground that was sanctified and blessed and Magtherius had gone to great lengths to gather pure energy of Heaven from the unknown heart to the hidden eye within Pandemonium. Combining both with the energy of the arch would expand their power to the fullest for the purification ceremony. 

At least, that is what he hoped. 

Magtherius took a deep breath, forcing the uncertainty in his soul down as he started to reach out for the arch. His soul began to sing, loud and clear, unwavering once more, beseeching the arch to listen. The other archangels joined him, twining their notes higher, melding with his own. In that moment, they were not four, but one soul, mixing and twisting, gathering the power between them to draw the arch’s song, its very soul, to bless their union.   
The entire room began to fill with energy, the carved runes along the floor starting to glow, helping to funnel the gathering energy towards the center. The glowing liquid began to tremble, rippling intensely before starting to rise, pulled into the air and adding a sudden bolster of energy to all that was gathered. It was a slight dissonance chord that weaved its way in, but did not sound out of place with the choir they were raising. 

It served to draw the energy downwards, creating a sudden funnel of energy about the floating soulstone that was at the center of the circle. Energy lashed out at the surface of the stone, radiant beams of light seeking to find a way in. The black energy within swirled about in agitation, the entire soulstone shuddering in reaction. The song continued, each archangel throwing all of their power behind each note, each shrill ballad. 

Magtherius’s wings flared, feeling the others as if they were his own soul, slowly pulling forth the book of virtue from his side and opening it, focusing the power of the holy relic forward into the ceremony. The funnel of energy that swirled about the stone began to pull together tighter and soon formed a powerful beam of energy that lashed through the stone like lightning.

The surface of the stone seemed to crack, holy energy pouring in, forcefully ripping into the unholy soul within, infusing every tainted strand with the purifying energy gathered in the lightsong. The color within the soul stone was molten, the black dotted with red as if it were burning yet still so fluid as it let the light wash over it. The soulstone was cracking more, energy beaming out from it as it worked to take in the concentrated energy and mold it.

As the last bit of black vanished under the molten waves of gold and red light within, the stone finally gave way, exploding outwards and sending smoking shards flying. Not one archangel stepped back though or stopped their song, continuing to weave the lightsong, pushing against the new soul that was forming. 

No demonic soul flew out at them. What was left was a bright molten ball of energy, swirled with black that tried to lash out of the energy trying to swallow it up now and then. Each time the tainted essence pushed to escape, the lightsong grew louder as the archangels pushed to contain it back within the form they wanted. 

The air was growing colder as the free essence of the lord of hell attempted to spread, only to be swallowed up again and again by the energy of the lightsong. Magtherius felt hope though in his soul, a mad hope perhaps as he sang the words of the song. He made clear his hope to the others and to the demonic soul that still struggled. He wanted to believe that his voice could somehow calm down the lord of Hell he had called friend in life, to let him know this sacrifice would not be in vain.

That everything they had ever conspired to see was about to be born. 

Magtherius pushed forward, throwing all his might into the chant, the book of virtue a bright beacon in his hands. The light was strengthening, flaring and fracturing as it finally closed about the demonic soul of the lord of death. As the soul was engulfed at last, the core suddenly flared up brighter and let out a sudden keening shriek of energy that sent the archangels stumbling back.

The sudden loss of concentration lost the words of the lightsong and the energy of the arch began to receed. Magtherius recovered quickly, gripping the book of virtue tightly in hand, wings raised in alarm , hoping they had not lost all their work, not when they were so close. His soul quivered in fear for a moment before relief swept over him as the light in the room died down enough to see what was left behind. He could feel the other archangels shifting, drawing in close again, all of them staring at what was created. 

It was a glowing soul, a pure angelic soul. The coloration was a grey and blue color that whisper out like tendrils of smoke. The newborn soul hovered for a few moments before starting to drift downwards towards the floor silently. Once it touched the cool marble below, it shuddered and began to distort, tendrils of light stretching out into the familiar form of wings. 

The rest stretched out over the floor, struts forming at the base at the extending wings. Tiny hands began to emerge from the glowing mass followed by legs and soon a growing body between the two. The glowing, unshapped form shivered before starting to cool further, extending outwards into something resembling cloth. As the glow faded, color bled into the cloth and form and soon, a tiny fledgling dropped to the floor, unmoving at first, save for the gentle beat of tiny wings, before they shivered and curled up with a soft, rasping sound. 

Magtherius let out a sigh of relief, his resonance surging with joy. 

“We did it...” he murmured. 

It was indeed an angel fledgling, a dark color, more silver than gold or bronze, but a fledgling nonetheless. The demonic soul of the lord of death had been purified into the form of an angel! Yet whatever growing sense of accomplishment had been building within Magtherius’s resonance was quickly dampened as Valenriel stepped forward, wings flicking anxiously as they glanced towards the archangel of virtue. 

“I cannot feel them...”

Magtherius started, wings given a nervous jolt, “What?”

“I cannot feel them,” Valenriel repeated, “The little one has no song. They are...silent.”

Magtherius glanced towards the archangel of joy before reaching out with his own resonance, giving a small murmuring call. Typically a newborn fledgling would response to the call, melding their soul to that of those angels around and begin to imprint upon them. 

The archangel of virtue though felt no response from the quivering fledgling curled up against the floor, only an aching silence that made it clear that they had only been partially successful. 

“A songless. All that work to create a songless fledglings,” Tyranius said, shaking her head, “A waste of time.”

“At least it is still an angel,” Killenthiel murmured, although disappointment was clear in his resonance, “Perhaps this just goes to show that anything demonic will always be well...incomplete if it involves itself with the light.”

The fledgling by now had slowly began to push themselves up into a sitting position, lifting their head to take in their surroundings. As soon as they spotted the archangels, their tiny form tensed and they let out another odd rasping noise as they started to back away in obvious fear. Unfamiliar limbs sprawled out, making the movement backwards more of a flail than movement. The fledgling was practically belly crawling backwards, wings pulled tight to their back.

Magtherius could only feel pity. No doubt the poor thing had no idea what was going on or that they were even the same species. Part of the imprinting was giving them a sense of what they were, conveying they were both angels. A songless did not have that. Fear was the first emotion that was so easy to read in the tiny fledgling as it curled up against the far wall, quacking and watching them all the while. 

Valenriel cocked their head as they watched the fledgling retreat before looking to the others, “...so what do we do with them?”

“Take it to is kin on the outskirts. They know how to deal with those that cannot sing,” Tyranius said with a wave of her hand, “Better them deal with it than waste any of our time.” 

“What about seeing how they will grow? The plan has not changed just because the fledgling is a songless!” Magtherius protested with a growl, “And I do not approve of the ways in which you address our kin, Tyranius.”

The archangel of victory shook her head, “You know I mean no disrespect, but they are better off raised by those that know of their unique needs and none in Heaven will accept this one with open arms, Magtherius and you know it. That is just the nature of how things are.”

Magtherius’s wings stiffened as he looked back at the fledgling. They were letting out a pitiful sound, a distressed mewling noise coupled with the rasp of their skeletal wings. They had created them, given them life, and brought them into this world. They were not like the other angels without song, dark as he may be, the soul within was not incomplete. They were not songless because of missing notes. 

Their core was made of something different, something no other angel had.

They still deserved love and a home just as much as any other angel. 

The archangel of virtue’s wings flared some as he straightened up, looking at the others,“I will raise him. I brought about their creation, I will raise them as my own. It is my responsibility anyways as the one to suggest this purification in the first place. I will see this to the end personally ”

Valenriel started and Tyranius’s wings flared, taken aback by the proclamation. Desindeius had no reaction save for an errant twitch of her wings. Of al lthose there, it was Killenthiel that stepped forward, wings flicking about uncertainly. 

“Are you sure, my lord?” Killenthiel asked softly, “A fledgling is already a great responsibility, but one born in silence-”

“I am certain. This was my idea,” he said, crouching down and extending a hand towards the cowering fledgling, “They are my responsibility to raise.”

“Then they are yours to raise,” Tyranius shook her head, sighing, “I only hope you know what you are doing with this.”

“The child’s nature is unknown. Raised close, we can see for ourselves what this one will develop into and what power they may have,” Desindeius said, wings flicking out, “Their core is still something not quiet heavenly I believe, something...perhaps in between Heaven and Hell. There is much potential power there.”

There was a silence among the archangels that Magtherius brushed off. He did not concern himself for their reason for agreeing to this. Either to weaponize what was made or to answer age old questions, none of it mattered. For Magtherius, this was a means of making peace one day with Hell, of finding common ground in individuals born of both worlds. 

It was a means to find balance. 

The fledgling was staring at him, still trembling, as he slowly crouched and began to approach them on their level. The archangel of virtue spread his wings invitingly, chuckling softly as he shuffled forward a bit, hand extending outwards palm up, “Don’t be shy little one. There is nothing to fear. I have you and I promise to look after you and be there for you. You don’t have to afraid anymore.” 

The fledgling could not understand him, even a typical fledgling would not develop words for a few months more, but the tone Magtherius used must have eased whatever fright in the fledgling’s soul. Gradually they began to calm down and after a few more minutes, ever so slowly, they reached out one tiny black hand to put in the much larger armored one, feeling about it for a moment before putting the other hand in Magtherius’s as well. He let the fledgling feel out his hand and explore it, their tiny, wispy wings starting to grow stronger and show a more physical structure of sort that lightly tapped together letting out another rasping sound. 

Magtherius couldn’t help but chuckle again, feeling a swell of adoration already. The little one couldn’t feel him, but already, the archangel of virtue was starting to imprint a bit on the tiny fledgling, asserting that this one was indeed his. The fledgling also seemed to have a healthy dose of curiosity as they leaned forward, white tassles trailing along the archangel of virtue’s hand as they leaned forward to walk tiny hands up his arm with a small, almost peeping sound.

Tyranius gave another shake of her head as she watched the whole scene, “I hope you know what you are doing.”

“I do. I always do.” Magtherius responded, moving to slowly pick up the fledgling. At first the tiny angel tensed, wings pulling close, but once lifted up with no harm done, they began to start their exploring once more, now starting to pat tiny hands over Magtherius’s chest and hood. The archangel of virtue chuckled, leaning in to give a slight nuzzle, one of his wing tendrils flitting forward and immediately catching his new fledgling’s attention. They were quick to latch onto it, starting to play and inspect the new thing, their own wings fluttering excitedly now. 

“It is as Desindeius said,” the archangel of virtue began, glancing towards Tyranius, “We must keep a close eye on them and do our part. I will raise him and perhaps in time, you will all serve as teachers to their development.”

“Maybe.” Tyranius grumbled, “If they don’t end up a troubled child like most songless.”

Magtherius ignored her remarks, looking down at the tiny, dark fledgling in his arms. The robes were black, trimmed with white and silver. No longer was their posture tense, curiosity overcoming fear as they continued to explore, tapping tiny hands against armor. It was the first step in making those first tiny bonds through the exploration of what to them, was a new being entirely. 

The little thing hadn’t yet even figured out they were the same. 

He couldn’t help the small joy in his soul as he turned away from the others, sparing a final glance about, “We do not speak of this and we will see what happens. You are all dismissed back to your tribes.”

“Will we attempt this again?” Valenriel asked.

Magtherius gave a shake of his head, “Let us see how this one grows up before we make any rash choices.I have a feeling they will surprise us all.” 

Killenthiel nodded, clasping his hands behind his back, “I wish you the best of luck. Fledglings can be a handful. Do not hesitate to ask for aid.”

“We are with you to the conclusion of this study,” Desindeius added with a nod of their head, “To whatever end.” 

Magtherius nodded, “I will see you all at the meeting tomorrow,” He said softly, starting to leave, “We will discuss more then.”

He was already spreading his wings by the time he left the room, taking to wing over the primitive city that was slowly being built. The fledgling in his arms let out a loud peeping sound, clutching onto him tightly as they peered over the safety of Magtherius’s arms to look below. The archangel couldn’t help a small chuckle as he flew to the tower he claimed as his own, as unassuming as the rest of the structures around save for a strange observatory at its peak. All the while, he moved one hand soothingly over the fledgling to once more put their fears at ease and once more they began to calm down.

In time, the little one would pick a name and prefered gender, as per heavenly traditions. No parent every named a child given such a thing was of importance to self identity. Maghterius wondered what type of name the little one would choose in time. 

Until then though, they would need guidance and protection. They would need love and assurance. All of that, Magtherius knew he could supply and would do so for as long as he could. 

He looked down at the fledgling, unable to stop the slow bloom of a special, unconditional love that had him already bringing tendrils of his wings forward for the tiny fledgling to start grabbing onto and exploring with soft huffs and babbles of attempted words. 

The little one was his responsibility and he would not trade that for anything in the world. 

For now, all he could see was the tiny light of a new start. 

A new life born of death with all the future laid out before them to claim. 

In that moment, holding the fledgling in his arms and watching them let out that first giggle as they grasped onto two of his wing tendrils to bury their face against, Magtherius felt contented for the first time in a long while.

“I’ve got you, now and forever,” he murmured softly as he entered into his home, “You’ll never need to be afraid again...”


	2. Identity and Choice

Magtherius looked up sharply when he heard the door to his ward’s room slam open and then was followed by loud thumps as the tiny fledgling began to hop down each stair, one at a time. It was rather clear the little angel was making their presence known with every jump and thump they made. Magtherius glanced over, watching his ward pause between each jump, picking up quickly the fledgling was staring right back at him.

That told the archangel of virtue one thing: his ward was in a mood today.

Usually his ward was quiet when he came down, giving small tugs to get attention and then pointing to what they needed or doing some other pantomime to convey what they wanted. 

When the fledgling decided to make as much noise as possible upon their arrival, it was a clear sign they wanted attention. 

“Something wrong little one?” Magtherius asked when his ward had slammed down at the bottom of the stairs, standing there looking at him with tiny hands on their hips. 

The fledglings small, but wispy wings flared as they shook their head, hunching their shoulders. Magtherius had to force himself to hold back a sigh. His ward wanted attention, but at the same time, wanted to be left alone about what was bothering them. Typical of young fledglings starting to understand the world. They wanted to become more independent about things, but oh, did they want to be acknowledged and praised for whatever they did on their own, thus the call for attention. His ward was trying to get an adoring audience before they set about whatever little task they had set their young mind to. 

“Is there something you want?” Magtherius asked, turning towards his fledgling. 

There was a pause this time, then a nod, the dark fledgling’s hands coming up to fidget with the long tassles off the side of their robe, tugging on them a bit. That was a nervous habit Matherius’s ward had picked up, one that had resulted in them starting to pull the tassels longer. SomethingMagtherius had teased his ward about, telling the small angel that if he kept pulling, they were going to pull the tassels out until they dangled at their knees. 

Of course, that had only served to have the dark fledgling tug on them more. 

“Is it something I can help with?”

That question earned an immediate shake of his ward’s head and a flare of tiny wings as they finally began to shuffle forward towards Magtherius. They came to a pause beside the massive archangel of virtue, looking up at him before turning their gaze towards the large tomes stacked to the side. There was a small twitch of tiny wings before they were on the move again, starting to flutter their wings and wobbly rise into the air, clinging onto the edge of the desk to pull themselves up.

Magtherius tilted his head, ready to help his ward if need be, only leaning back when the fledgling reached the top of his desk, “What are you up to little one?”

His ward let out a huff, shaking their head and wings giving an agitated flare that only caused Magtherius’s curiosity to grow, “What? Is it something I said little one?”

The fledgling nodded emphatically, already moving to one of the tomes. It took a bit of tugging and pulling, but finally one of the books was pulled used, slamming onto the desk. Magtherius watched as his ward scurried forward to open the tome then, pushing it flat against the desk as they loomed over it for a moment, pausing to look over their shoulder at Magtherius, finally shaking their head no. 

“You want to read by yourself?” Magtherius asked.

The little angel shook their head again and pointed to themselves then to the words, giving an excited flutter of their wings. They then raised a hand, making a gesture to indicate something little and then pointing to themselves again and shaking their head emphatically once more. The archangel of virtue’s wings twitched, as he raised a hand to rub his chin taking in the small gestures. Despite being old enough to speak, his ward had refrained thus far from speaking. Instead they communicated in gestures and written words just recently. 

Still, it didn’t take much to figure out what his ward was trying to convey and Magtherius felt a little thrill of excitement at what his war might be trying to accomplish. 

“You don’t like me calling you little one and want to pick a name for yourself?”

That earned a nod from his ward, along with a shy tug of a tassel from his robes and tiny flutter of his wings. Magtherius felt his resonance buzz with elation, nodding quickly, “Yes, of course! Go ahead and pick a name!”

His ward looked him over a minute before turning to the book, carefully flipping through the pages and reading the words. Magtherius was doing all he could to keep from trying to lean over the fledgling’s shoulder to see what they were reading. 

Every angel taking care of or raising fledglings always awaited this day with baited breath. New angels were quiet, learning to talk and starting to read with the first year of their life, but in terms of self-actualization, they tended to rely on their caretakers to explain what they were. 

Who they were was up to the fledgling to determine and the first step in that process was the name day.

Eventually every fledgling would pick a name for themselves and on that day, heaven considered an angel fully formed and aware of themselves. Gender tended to follow soon after and then their very form would begin to grown and shift as their individual personalities grew. The name day was a very sacred day and Magtherius could hardly believe that day hat come for his ward. 

He watched with pride as the fledgling carefully turned each page, dragging a tiny finger across the page, pausing at times before moving on. True, the fledgling was still learning to read, but was still further ahead than most fledglings their age. They were a quick study and had picked up reading quickly. Magtherius could only wonder what the fledgling was thinking about as they parsed the text, looking for something to fit whatever they had in mind. 

Most fledglings tended to make up a name or pick one based on something heard, but it was rather fitting that his own ward was far more logical and studious about it, putting on a show of being a good student no doubt ot try and impress Magtherius.

It had the resonance of the archangel all aglow with absolute, unconditional adoration for the fledgling.

After a good ten minutes, the dark fledgling paused, tiny finger stopping at a word they had found. For a moment they read over whatever was there where their finger stopped before giving a satisfied nod and reaching to pull over a blank piece of parchment and one of Magtherius’s quills. The tiny angel stretched further to drag the inkwell a bit closer, carefully dipping the quill into it. Magtherius couldn’t help but lean closer then, wings arched and giving small flutters of excitement as he watched his ward carefully start to write. 

It took a while and the writing was crude at best, the lines wavy, but the letters were at least legible. His ward sat back, wings held up proudly as they looked up at him, waiting for what his caretaker would say, no doubt expecting praise for how ‘carefully’ they had written their new name.

Magtherius leaned forward more, taking in the name and feeling his soul buzz with confusion as he read the name on the parchment out loud. 

“Malthael….?”

His ward nodded. 

The name was an odd one, but it had meaning to it, but what meaning his ward wanted to convey had Magtherius at a loss. 

“May I ask why you picked that name?” he finally said, keeping his tone gentle.

The fledgling paused, head coked in thought for a moment before they pulled the parchment close to carefully write out their answer as whatever they wanted to say couldn’t be easily pantomimed.

“I am not good.” 

Those four words shattered the excitement of the moment, replacing it with a sudden sting of heartbreak for the fledgling. It was so hard to know what his ward was feeling and the small angel very rarely conveyed any distress. Sometimes some fear or misgiving, but they had always indicated they were happy. To see it so plainly they felt something was wrong with them… it brought a sting of sadness to Magtherius’s soul.

“No,” he finally said, tone earnest as he put a hand on the fledgling’s shoulder, “you are good little one-”

His ward huffed and stabbed a finger at the name, wings flaring. 

“You are good, Malthael,” Magtherius corrected quickly, “There is nothing wrong with you.”

The newly dubbed Malthael looked down at the parchment, refusing to look at their caretaker before quietly writing out, “I am bad. Not good. Others are not nice to me.” 

Magtherius gave another shake of his head, moving to pull Malthael closer tucking the tiny angel close to wiggle a finger against the base of his wing earning a shrill giggle and squak from the tiny angel, “Nothing is wrong with you,” he assured, “You were born of a lightsong like any angel in Heaven. You are an angel and all of us are different. Some have songs, some do not. Some are brightly colored, others are darker. It does not make you any less a child of the crystal arch.”

He paused, looking at the name, “So are you still sure that is the name you want?”

His ward was still for a long moment before they gave a nod.

Magtherius slowly nodded as well, “Then so be it. You are Malthael.” he declared, moving to set his ward on the table, “A very mysterious name really! Not really dark or making me think of something wrong, no, makes me think of power, intelligence, of mystery and the unknown! Very fitting.”

Malthael’s wings fluttered, shyly turning their head and pulling in their tassels at the praise, shaking their head. 

“Oh don’t you shake your head at me like that! It is all true!” He said with a chuckle, poking Malthael in the belly, causing the fledgling to squeak again, “You hold so many secrets inside such a tiny body, holding your tongue for so long because you are waiting for the right moment to spring your cunning on us all!”

Malthael latched onto his hand, wings fluttering more, practically hovering off the desk as they continued to shake their head more. There was a faint noise though, the barest breaths of a tiny giggle from the fledgling as they moved to perch on his shoulder, clinging affectionately onto him. Magtherius chuckled as he rose to his feet, moving over to the large calendar on the far wall, a quill in hand which he handed to Malthael, “How about we mark today yes? Your name day is very important! We must remember when to celebrate it each cycle of the stars and shower you in gifts!”

The fledgling nodded excitedly, wings fluttering hard enough that the more solid part of them was rasping loudly like the hum of some strange insect. Magtherius could only chuckle as he stepped up to the large calendar streched on the far wall, moving to hold Malthael up so he could mark the day. The fledgling leaned forward carefully wings still fluttering as they once more wrote out their new name carefully and then drawing a tiny doodle of themselves beside it. They looked up proudly when finished, puffing up a bit and pointing. 

Magtherius chuckled, “Yes, it is wonderfully done Malthael! Your writing is getting almost as good as mine!”

The fledgling was all but beaming, puffing oup more, wings flared like they had just won some great victory. 

Malthael.

Not a name Magtherius would pick, but it was the name the fledgling was adamant to have, even if the reason for it caused a tiny sting of sadness in his soul. To see Malthael so pleased with themselves though, helped to buoy his mood up again.

Maybe in time the name would come to have a different meaning for his ward.

“Your resonance feels like a youngling diving and soaring after class, Lord Magtherius! May I inquire as to what has your soul both singing and sighing?”

Magtherius turned towards the door of his study, one wing flicking out in greeting as he gave a nod of his head, “Ah, Killenthiel, a pleasure to see you as always,” he greeted warmly, “And today is a very joyous occasion for any caretaker. I cannot help how loud my soul sings.”

“Oh?” Killenthiel asked, cocking his head, “And what, may I inquire, is the reason for such jubilation?”

Magtherius cocked his head to the fledgling riding on his shoulder who immediately ducked down, “Today is my ward’s name day! May I introduce you to Malthael.”

“Malthael eh?” Killenthiel said, tone amused, but already extending a hand to the fledgling, “A pleasure to meet you at last then, Malthael! I am Killenthiel, archangel of judgment and I must say, you picked a lovely name.”

Malthael shyly reached out to shake the hand, puffing up some at the praise. 

Whether Killenthiel truly liked the name or not was besides the point. It was a courtesy that when a fledgling picked their name, adult angels acted excited and friendly about the name, giving formal greetings to help bolster the fledglings pursuit of their new identity. 

“I do not think you came here to celebrate though a name day,” Magtherius said, moving to pry Malthael off his shoulder to place him on his desk, “Is something the matter?”

“Nothing really. I honestly came by to see how you were,” the archangel of judgment admitted, “I was just passing by and felt your resonance surge and well...fall.” 

He leaned in a bit closer, dropping his voice and slipping into the more ancient tongue of heaven that the fledgling wouldn’t understand, “Is there a reason he picked that name? It isn’t… a very positive or uplifting name.”

“They feel something is wrong with themselves,” Magtherius murmured back, glancing over at his fledgling as they moved about the desk, picking up the quill and starting to doodle on the corner of the nearest piece of parchment. 

Of course, that parchment happened to be a rather important document, but alas, nothing was safe from the wandering interests of a fledgling. There were several reports and formal decrees that had the artistic talents of his fledgling on it now. 

Just an accepted fact of his life now although it was one the council consistently had to ask about. 

Killenthiel gave a small nod, glancing to Malthael as well, “Perhaps...you should take them out to meet more fledglings? I know he hasn’t reacted...well in the past, especially with the older ones, but I think gaining some friends would help with their feelings of being wrong. Probably just feels isolated my friend.”

“I know….” Magtherius murmured, wings dropping, “Just last time well...”

“I know. It is hard to see your only fledgling get bullied and withdraw, but...we need to also build positive experiences, that not every social interaction will end like that,” Killenthiel said gently, “And you need time to yourself as well to take care of your own well being and take care of personal business once and a while.”

Magtherius sighed, slipping back into the heavenly tongue, “I suppose you are right old friend.”

“I’m right on occasion,” Killenthiel said, tone amused as he slipped back into the common tongue of Heaven, “How about this? I’ll take Malthael with me. I’m going down to talk to Tyranius about a few things and I know she has a new nest of fledglings. Little rambunctious, fearless things. I’m sure that will be easier for Malthael to deal with yes?”

“Maybe,” Magtherius murmured, wings giving a worried flick, “I should come with you though-”

“You need a break and I’m sure there are things you need time alone to handle. I know you have been anxious to return to your homeland for a quick visit to ensure everything is well,” Killenthiel interrupted, “I’ll keep a good eye on him. I have more than a few fledglings I’ve raised. I know what I’m doing, even with the more difficult cases.”

Magtherius’s wings gave another worried flick, looking between Malthael and Killenthiel. It was true, he had some personal business he had been putting off. He had not been to the Hold of Redemption, his homeland, in a long while. A concern he had kept pushing off given he did not want to bring his ward there. 

Not yet. 

Not until he was ready. 

“Then I will leave him to your care.” Magtherius finally said with a sigh, moving towards where his ward still sat, doodling, “Just, if anything happens-”

“If anything happens, I’ll return here with them and keep an eye on them until you return, I promise,” Killenthiel said.

Magtherius nodded, still reluctant about this, but really, Malthael was becoming more independent and needed to be allowed to stretch their wings, not be cloistered inside just because he was afraid of harm coming to his ward. 

He couldn’t keep Malthael away from the less savory parts of the world forever. 

A sigh escaped Maghterius as he turned to approach his desk. As the archangel of virtue drew closer, Malthael looked up proudly pointing at his doodle of a tiny version of himself with Magtherius, holding hands with tiny arrows pointing to both with their names. Magtherius chuckled, moving to carefully pick up the fledgling, “Most impressive! Perhaps you will become an artists hmm?”

Malthael gave a shrug, cocking their head curiously as Magtherius moved towards Killenthiel once more. The archangel of virtue let out a soft hum, looking down at his ward, “Now, Malthael, now that you have a name, I think it is time you got out and saw more of Heaven. Killenthiel here has volunteered to take you to meet others your age.”

Malthael tensed at that, ducking down and digging their tiny claw tipped gauntlets into his armor, givign a shake of their head. Magtherius shook his head in response, slowly prying the fledgling off him, “It will be fine. These are younger fledglings, not like the ones we met before! I’m sure they will be very curious to meet you and once I return home in a short hour, we will celebrate your name properly, I promise!”

He could tell his ward was doubtful, their entire body limp in his grasp. Resigned to their fate, but at the same time not pleased. Their tiny wings clicked together in a rasp as Killenthiel carefully took them off Magtherius’s hands, “I won’t be long with my business, I promise,” the archangel assured his ward, “Just try this. Just this once. Yes? Learning is about experiences after all, not just books.”

Malthael let out a huff, giving a small nod, moving to cling onto Killenthiel as the archangel of judgment turned around, “I’ll keep a good eye on him my lord. I promise.”

With that, Killenthiel moved to the open balcony, jumping up on the ledge before spreading his wings . Another jump had him rising quickly into the air before he tucked his wings in close to dive down, Malthael clinging tight to the archangel of judgement’s robes all the while. Magtherius watched the two go, shifting from foot to foot before letting out a sigh and moving to the balcony himself. 

Malthael would be fine. Getting some time apart was normal and just a part of growing up, even if it pained him to be away from the fledgling but he supposed that was a pain all caretakers went through. The archangel of virtue couldn’t help a quiet laugh at that thought. How would he ever handle school if he couldn’t let Malthael go on a play date of all things?

“I’m turning into a mother cherubium, that’s what.” he murmured to himself before leaping into the air, rising up above Heaven.

Magtherius coasted over the silver city, dropping lower as he began to reach the edge of where Heaven met the twisted stones of Pandemonium. The white clouds that swirled about Heaven began to grow heavy and swollen, their coloration tinged grey as they flowed downwards towards Pandemonium, mixing with the black broil that rose eternally from Hell. The mixture of energy caused build-up of wild arcane magic that deeper within, would lash out at the ground in forked lightning, helping in the creation of the twisted barren landscape that stretched between Heaven and Hell. 

The archangel of virtue pulled his wings close, starting to descend towards the nearest plume of super-charged clouds, slipping within and out of sight of the rest of Heaven. The black clouds closed in, the murmur of energy dancing over armor as he continued to drop lower and lower, coming out briefly over the sprawling camps of the Exserium angel tribes. The camps were filled with activity, as always, the stalwart defenders of Heaven always working to build up the defenses in the edge land and trade blows with their demonic enemies. Their preference for living in Pandemonium was one born of a desire to fight and prove themselves, not for any love or connection to the land itself. 

Magtherius kept himself high above the camps, using the clouds as cover to mask his passing until he was well beyond their lines and into the more wild lands of Pandemonium. 

It was only then that he let his form shift from the more heavenly one he took while around angels outside his tribe and into the form that his own people, the Kyrium tribe of Heaven, had always assumed. 

His armor’s bright gold began to rappidly darken, taking on more a dark red coloration, laced through with marbled twists of color. Gauntlets sharpened into the pintricks of longer claws, more serrated and jagged along the edges and his wings extended outwards, the coloration bleedping out to a dark, almost black cloud, laced through with sparks of the rabid energy of Pandemonium. The robes molted to a mix of red and grey, meant more for camoflauge against the rocks of the landscape and the halo about his head drew closer, appearing more like horns. 

The coloration blended into the landscape, making Magtherius all but invisible as he continued to descend across the landscape. The wild energy did not bother him as it laced over his form. It did not cause his resonance distress like his kin or drive him away howling like it would for a demon. The kyrium were adapted to these lands. It was far from the arch thus the dark coloration of their wings. Most of the energy they used to fuel their form was drawn from the mess of arcane energy that was born in Pandemonium and then focused through another part of Anu that lay hidden below.

The Kyrium were not born so much of the arch as they were a song found through the eyes of Anu. A stone of unsurpassed power that his people had guarded from both Heaven and Hell out of concern of what such an artifact would do to the delicate balance in the conflict they were barely maintaining. 

They were born of a different song, but one that resonated harmoniously with those angels of the high Heaven. 

Still, it was better to utilize their gift of shape-shifting to hide their true form to fit in with their kin. It was always good to shed the tired illusion though and Magtherius all but spread his wings wide, stretching as he began to dive down towards the earth, energy trailing after him to strike at the earth as he passed over it. 

Magtherius’s descent slowed as he saw the familiar twisting spires of his home begin to rise on the horizon and the familiar formations of hidden structures built into the side of the rising formations of stone that stood at the lip of Hell itself. A single thought caused his colors to start to shift, breaking the natural camouflage to make his presence known to the hulking guards of the Hold perched on the roof. 

The flashes were quickly returned by the Kyrium guards perched on the top, a few turning to watch him pass with a hand raised in greeting. Some looked more angelic save for their coloration, much more like Magtherius himself, but others held more demonic features, some even sporting large bat-like wings with laces of energy sliding off the webbing as the only indication of their true angelic soul. The Kyrium did not only welcome those that they sang into existence with their song to their ranks, but also those demons who had put aside their evil natures to ascend to a life greater than before. However many of those ascended would be unwelcomed still in Heaven proper, thus served their duty here at the Hold of Redemption, aiding the Kyrium in their ancient guardianship. 

Magtherius flared his wings, coming in for a gentle landing onto one of the empty, crumbling spires that rose from the top of the hold, once inhabited by his kin long ago. Back when they had numbers near equal to any tribe in Heaven. 

Before the escalating conflict had caused their ancient home to come under constant attack by Hell and the hatred between the two caused fewer and fewer to dare to ascend. Now these spires were mostly ancient relics of a far gone age of almost peace, left to the decays of war.

However, even these ruins were still home to one rather resilient denizen of Pandemonium. 

Magtherius straightened up, shaking his wings and sending off a shower of purple sparks as he watched a black mass slither about the broken stones towards him. A chuckle escaped him as he held up his hand, letting the inky, star-studded blackness warp about his arm, engufling it before the mass began to spit apart into discernable coils. The stars within the mass shivered, swirling together as arms and legs formed to help balance the coils as they wrapped tighter about Magtherius’s arm and soon a head formed, filled with hundreds of eyes, the whole of it splitting into a drippy, inky smile filled with stars and more eyes.

“Master Magtherius! You have come! This one was so worried that we crossed path for last time,” the strange creature purred, its voice buzzing like a hundred little voices talking at once. 

The archangel of virtue shook his head, raising his free hand to pet the head gently, each pass of his hand causing more of the head to properly form, giving it a far more dragon-like appearance.

“Calm Tag’Oul. I am not gone from this conflict yet,” Magtherius responded with a chuckle, “I merely had my duties to my ward keeping me in Heaven. It is a lot of work to raise a fledgling.”

“This one knows. This one still missed you and your words.” Trag’oul responded, closing their eyes and leaning into the touch. 

Magtherius couldn’t help another chuckle. Trag’oul was, as ever, a sentimental creature. Typical of some of his kind, although that was in the minority. The celestials of the ancient age had been more distant, bound in the realms between creation where they had settled upon the beginning of the existence. When Anu and Tathamet had clashed for the first time, the shock waves had ripped apart reality and the great celestial beasts were born, their bodies of stars stretching about to hold creation together as the power of good and evil sought both the embrace and destruction of the other. When both had fallen, the celestials had pulled the world together again. 

Many, exhausted, succumbed to death, their bodies forming the earth of Pandemonium and releasing a miasma of magical energy. Others stretched out across the sky where they died, their energy forming the stars and sky that connected all the parts of reality. Their children were born of their husks, rising into a new world where ultimately, they would be hunted to near extinction for the power they exuded. Hell found they could harvest such essence to gain greater power. Heaven, the means to strengthen their songs. 

Trag’oul was the last of that ancient race. 

Just one of many within the Hold of Redemption seeking refuge from the eternal conflict and the destruction it once more brought. 

“You alright?” Trag’oul asked, one clawed hand patting at Magtherius’s hood, “You seem lost in thought.” 

“Mmm...it is nothing,” Magtherius said, moving towards the stairs that led down into the hold itself, “Tell me, my eyes and ears, what has Belphagor been up to while I’ve been away? In one word.”

Trag’oul rolled about the arm, twining coils a bit tighter thoughtfully, “One word, hmm,” they murmured before fixing Magtherius with a gaze of a pair of eyes on the back of their head, “Tricky. Very tricky.” 

“Oh?” Magtherius said, “Not surprising.”

“Tricky but quiet.” Trag’oul murmured, “This one feels him eager for you to come, fangs bared in glee for you to speak of your triumph in reforming his brother. My master….” 

The slithering serpent paused, tone cautious, “Master has been reborn yes?”

“It was a success, yes.” Magtherius said quietly as he stepped into the hold proper, “My theories were correct.”

“Oh! Is he here? This one wants to see him again! Dearest master!” Trag’oul crooned, flaring out into a mass of eagerly clawing limbs.

Magtherius shook his head giving a firm press against the dragon’s small body to force the little limbs back into their shimmering hide, “Not yet Trag’oul. They are too young still. In time though, I promise, you two will meet.” 

The dragon sighed, drooping into a melting black puddle to the floor, clutching onto Magtherius’s legs as he moved, “This one supposes, but filled with disappointment now.”

“Then look forward and backwards to where you know him and dwell there a time.”

“This one supposes, but never the same as present….not as happy as past, not as sad as future but….real. Solid. Existing. Alive,” the dragon paused, “Lingering...the present always lingers in a most lovely way,” they added softly.

Magtherius gave a nod, though he did not understand completely what the dragon spoke of. It was hard to understand or feel things in the perspective of a celestial. Their beings existed everywhere and nowhere, becoming everything and nothing, existing, yet at many points, not existing once more, becoming mere thought or concepts in order to hide from the physical world. 

It was an existence that was living in a world of different facets, although the same forces pulled and shaped them, the eternal conflict afflicting them as well. 

“Perhaps so. Perhaps if you are so eager, you can return with me to Heaven,” Magtherius said, glancing to the dragon, “Of course, that is, if you behave yourself and keep yourself hidden.”

The dragon perked up, eyes blinking rapidly as they nodded, “Yes, yes! This one will be ever so good! Knows the rules perfectly!”   
“Then it is settled,” Magtherius said, lifting his gaze to look about the main hall of the Hold of Redemption as he entered it, feeling his shoulders relaxed, “You will see him today when we return to Heaven.”

Trag’oul’s excited trills echoed in the cavernous hall of the Hold of Redemption. The entire structure had been careved from ancient caves that had formed from the rising rock from the lava below that poured out of Hell. The ancient stone was then carved out carefully, bearing both the more aesthetic elements of heavenly architecture and the geometric craftsmanship of Hell’s own brand of architecture. Graceful statues of Kyrium past were carved into the large support columns of the Hold, holding up the vaulted ceiling that held moasiacs of black onyx and precious gems up. A large window was sat at the far end, looking out over the landscape of Hell and above it, a large mural stood, a perfect circle created between the battle of Tathamet and Anu at one end, and at the other, a merging of the two, to represents the duality of that first rumble of the eternal conflict. 

“In all things, there is balance,” Magtherius murmured to himself.

“All things must exist together or not at all.” Trag’oul added with a solemn nod, “That is what allows creation to exist.” 

It was a mantra his people had taught him, and in turn, one he taught to others as best he could. It was the mantra that made him not hate Hell, but find a fascination with the darkness, enough to have peered into it, to turn away from the light and understand the nature of Heaven’s shadow. To understand the necessity of Hell in the balance of reality.

Yet even as the ruler of Heaven, his views were hard to teach to his kin, most angels seeing no reason to understand their ancient enemies, seeing them as something to remove, much like Anu saw the evil in his own being as something to be cast off. 

Still he did all he could to teach that idea of balance to Heaven and slowly work towards an end to the conflict where both sides could be content and maintain a balance of power, like two ends of a scale and Pandemonium in between. 

A perfect balance of light and dark, good and evil, morals and instincts. 

There were few though that saw that balance in Heaven and even here, within the Hold of Redemption itself, there were some who were dubious of such ideals.

Some wanted to always test to see if there was a balance at all, seeking to tip the scales one way or another just to see what would happen in response. Such though, was the nature of demons to be more content to upset the order of things. 

“You finally show up. I suppose this means your exerpiment was a success?”

Magtherius barely glanced over to the demon that emerged from a doorway to the left of him, wings giving a flick of greeting,” 

“The ceremony concluded as I predicted Belphagor,” The archangel responded, holding out his arm as Trag’oul retreated to hide behind his wings, “Malthael was born an angel of Heaven.”

“Malthael? You are letting your experiment name itself? You are going to go soft and get attached when you should remain apart, old friend.” The demon drawled, “Your emotions are going to cloud your judgment.” 

The demon shifted closer, revealing more of its grotesque form. Tall and lanky with too many arms and legs sprouting from the chest, and a head that seemed far too large to be held by the rest of the body, there was nothing angelic about Belphagor. The lord of decay though was not true of most of his kin though, more willing to see balance or perhaps more curious to see what was possible. 

The latter was probably more true, but it had been enough for the two to have a friendship, although the fact that Magtherius and his brother, the lord of death, had been far closer, had caused them to remain in each other’s circle of influence. In a way, the two were a balance to one another, one a voice of Heaven, the other a voice of Hell, contradicting and arguing points and finding points to agree on to achieve the same goal. 

They were friends, but Magtherius was no so naive or unwise to completely let his guard down around the demon or think his intentions always entirely sincere. 

Belphagor bared his teeth in a slight grin as Magtherius let out a sigh, wings ruffling as Trag’oul buried himself deeper in the dark purple, smoky tendrils, “No being created is an experiment, Belphagor. A living, breathing, emotional fledgling deserves to be loved and cared for, treated like any fledgling-”

“But they aren’t just any normal fledgling.” Belphagor interrupted, leaning on a twisted, gnarled staff made of bones and pieces of decayed flesh, “The core of that fledgling is black, Magtherius. Demonic. Born of the pits of Hell and the most ancient of evils.”

Magtherius’s wings gave an irritated twitch, “There is no indication of that, even if I cannot feel his resonance-”

“Cannot feel? A songless?” 

The scoffing tone the demon used had Magtherius’s tensing, his wings pulling close, “Still an angel. They are not the first to be born without that connection.”

“But it makes you wonder why,” Belphagor said with a cackle, “I would like to see this brat of yours, just to see if I can feel them. If they are still my brother at their twisted core. Just a shell of an angel worn over a demonic soul.”

“They will not come here until older,” Magtherius said stiffly, “The will of the council and my own wish is they are raised happily among their kin in heaven-”

“Even though they aren’t entirely angelic? Please, let the child live here. More akin to nephelem than pure bred angels,” Belphagor argued, “Why do you want them in Heaven?”

“Because you would see them as a means of study.” Magtherius retorted, “And I cannot stay here to watch them and I know you would try something, just to see how the fledgling would react. Your mentoring would be half study.”

“And your method is not?” Belphagor let out a snort, “You cannot possibly be telling me you aren’t taking interest in the child, monitoring for any oddities.”

“I am not. Malthael is their own being. What path they take is theirs to find, not mine. I will mentor him, teach him, and ...yes one day he will come here, but when they are older. When they are able to better understand the weight of choice.” Magtherius’s wings flared as he looked at the demon, “Something that no other angel has to make.”

“Choice. Yes, that is the crux of balance. The choices that can be made, even if one does not see it as a choice,” The demon’s head towards the doorway he exited, “Will they turn away from what they are to take the life you will offer in Heaven, or will they turn towards Hell and a new path?”

“Or take a bath that is neither,” Magtherius murmured, following the demon’s gaze to the black molted crystal that hovered above a pedestal with their shared workshop, “Choices are not black and white, my friend.”

The soulstone was similar to the one used to create Malthael and held the same energy. To increase the success of the ceremony, half the essences of the demonic lord of death had been used, the half containing more of the consciousness of the demon lord. His vast power over death had been locked away here.

It had been agreed that if the ceremony was a success, the fledgling born of it would be brought here when fully grown and the truth revealed. Then it would be Malthael’s choice if they decided to take in the power that was their birth right or destroy the crystal and let the essence seep away. A test of choice that Belphagor had created to put to rest if there was really anything akin to balance.

Or evil, no matter if it was reborn, would only begot more evil or if the light was simply powerful enough to burn away the corruption of the darkness. 

Magtherius’s attention turned the demon as he chuckled, “No, no it is not, but it can be influenced,” the demon lord of decay pointed out, raising a claw, “And I dare say, you raising the child in Heaven is tipping this game of ours in your favor. If your little creation is suppose to be balance-”

“I will continue to mentor Malthael as he grows older.” Magtherius retorted, “I do not trust you to not try and convince the poor soul of your kinship and try to force them to take in the essence before they are mentally prepared for that burden.”

“No, I say you are worried more that I will cause your precious fledgling to turn towards Hell,” Belphagor interrupted tersely, “That is what you truly fear, that your darling is going to see the power of their hellish birthright and decided that allure is greater than your stingy rules.”

Magtherius’s wings flared some, “I respect you as a friend Belphagor, and your council in the past, but this….” His shoulders hunched forward, his voice dropping to a low octave that was almost a growl, “You go too far with those acquisitions.” 

There was a hint of danger to the powerful archangel now, his wings held still, but power surged and sparked from them, brewing like a storm behind his back. The lord of decay paused, teeth bared and for a moment, looked almost ready to attack. Quickly though he drew back, leering as he let out a hissing chuckle. 

“Calm yourself Magtherius. I know better than mess with you. I know what you are capable of, and I was just seeing what truth there was to your convictions,” The demon gave a shake of his head, “You care far too much about this Malthael’s well-being and happiness now. You are being short-sighted about what all these secrets will do for them in the future.” 

Magtherius glanced away, shoulders tensing, “It is too much to explain to the poor fledgling now.” he said quietly, “And some things need to be told when the time is right. When they are ready. I will do everything I can to prepare Malthael for what will be revealed when brought here. Everything in my power to ensure that they will be all right.” 

Belphagor shook his head with a sigh, “It is going to break them.” he murmured quietly, “I know your intentions come from a place of intense desire and affection, but you must sometimes commit a minor act of cruelty to spare an even greater one.” 

Magtherius shook his head, “It may be a shock...but...it will not break them. Not if introduced correctly at the right time,” he responded, “They are not dull-witted.”

“As is apparent by the name they picked.” Belphagor drawled, “They already know, Magtherius. Even children know when something is wrong.”

“They feel isolated. That is all. They do not know the full scope and let us leave it at that.” Magtherius said softly, turning away to look out the window at the broil of Hell below, the moving rivers of lava that gasped and broiled, letting out the sulphuric fumes that rose upwards, “Let me do this my way.”

Belphagor sighed, shaking his head, “You are a soft-hearted fool, Magtherius.”

“Compassion and empathy are not weakness.”

“Oh they are...and you are going to learn that the hard way, mark my words,” the demon drawled, giving a wave of his claw.

Magtherius shook his head, not about to argue the point, “I should return now though. I merely wished to pass on word to you. I may not trust you completely, but I also do not trust my own council completely either.”

The demon chuckled, “Growing a little paranoid of your own kin now, are we?”

“It is not paranoia if your concerns are founded,” Magtherius drawled, crossing his arms, “The council did not agree to this out of the kindness of their hearts or any belief in my ideals. I’m more than aware that some of them are murmuring behind my back.”

Belaphgor leaned on his staff, “And what do you think they plan to do?”

“I am not sure,” Magtherius admitted, wings giving a small flick, “But I doubt there is intent to harm me. They would not go that far, but I’m concerned they will cause harm to my ward.”

“Just be careful, my friend. Don’t let your good will cloud your judgment,” Belphagor murmured, “You cannot expect the best of people or rational thought from those that hold you in silent contempt.”

“They are angels, not demons.” Magtherius said firmly, “Betrayal is not in their souls.”

“If you say so.” the demon gave another shake of his head, waving a claw, “I’ll be sure to put that on your grave when the worse happens.”

Magtherius snorted, “Always a pessimist, aren’t you?”

“A realist,” Belphagor correct, “not a dreamer, but I suppose one of us has to be the one to think everyone has something to redeem.”

The archangel of virtue gave a shake of his head, moving to the window and perching on the ledge of it, “Then I leave you to stew in your negative thoughts. I leave the hold again to your capable claws.” 

The demon snorted, giving another wave of his claw, “Suits me just fine! Lets me have more time and resources to do my own bit of work and of course, prepare.” he chuckled, “I’m patient. I can wait for the day your little ward finds their way here and finds out what you did. Oh that will be a beautiful day...”

“it will be a day you’ll regret, Belphagor, if you keep playing your games,” Magtherius warned, “It is something best done with both of us there. Logic and comfort together, not apart.”

“So you say...”

Magtherius sighed, shaking his head, spreading his wings wide, “I’ll return at a later time to discuss this further in more detail. I’ll have more detailed records to pass along that we may compare and go over.”

“Of course. Must always keep on top of things,” The demon responded with a curt nod of his head, “I’ll cobble together what notes we have here as well. Until next time then and try to not to get yourself killed.”

“Until next time,” Magtherius echoed, as he let himself tip forward, falling a few feet before launching upwards back into the cloud cover above. 

Trag’oul slipped out from between his wings, spreading his own as he rose up alongside the archangel, snake-like body wriggling as if he were crawling over the ground, “Belphagor is as this one said. Excited and tricky. This one is worried, should this one stay and watch?”

“It is nothing to worry about,” Maghterius assured his companion as he began to level out just beneath the hanging clouds, “It is how he has been for generations and generations more. Tis the nature of Hell to want to push things but he will not push too far with me alive. He knows not to cross me.”

“He fears you?”

“A little ,” Magtherius glanced to the dragon as he gave a flap of his wings, “I am ancient by angelic standards and I have demonstrated my power time and time again in the conflict. I am not one to trifle with. However, it is more he does value our friendship and will thus respect my choice.”

The dragon gave a nod, “This one understands, but this one still finds him disagreeable...”

“That is only because he does not let your gourge yourself on the vitals of the hold and reprimands you when you are being naught,” Magtherius teased, “You would find me such if I was around more.”

“That is a lie! This one would never find you disagreeable master!” The dragon huffed, puffing out some in the middle of flight, “So many terrible lies you are saying!”

Magtherius merely chuckled in response, shaking his head, “So you say Trag’oul, so you say, but now is not the time for argument. It is time to focus. We are drawing closer to Heaven. You do remember what to do, yes?”

Trag’oul nodded his head excitedly, his form twisting about already, “Yes, yes! This one knows what to do!” 

The dragon’s form twisted, darkness bleeding into brilliant light, forming golden plates and long flowing feathered wings. Soon, there was no dragon, but a more avian, heavenly creature that let out a trill already fluttering about, “This one will wear the usual disguise!”

Magtherius began to focus as well, leting his form change and shift into the form he took while in Heaven, the darker colors of the Kyrium of Pandemonium bleeding away to be replaced with a form more true and expected of an angel of the High Heavens. Trag’oul only let out a happy trilling sound as he dove forward, Magtherius following after him. 

“Keep close,” the archangel of virtue called out, “We are not going directly to my tower.”

“We are not? This one thought we go see the new little master!” The dragon called back, slowing down to hover in midair with a series of rapid flutters of their new, avian wings.

“They are with Killenthiel and on a play date within the camp of the Exserium. We will need to stop by there and seek out where Tyranius is with the new fledglings of her people first,” Magtherius explained, already starting to dive down through the clouds, reaching his resonance out ot locate the camp in question. 

Trag’oul gave a nod, eagerly diving after him with a loud trill, “This one will follow!”

“And keep quiet, remember!”

“Very quiet!” the dragon responded in a loud whisper as the crude barricade walls of the Exserium war camps began to come into view. 

The guards barely offered a glance towards Magtherius as he came in for a landing, holding out his arm for the large bird to land. There was a mere bow of the head, as dictated by customs upon the approach of Heaven’s king, before their gaze fixed again on the barren lands of Pandemonium. The archangel of virtue, moved passed them quickly, giving a sweep of his resonance to seek out Kilenthiel,

He half expected the archangel of judgment to have left with Malthael after another incident by now, yet with a surge of relief, he detected the other archangel was nearby. As was, surprisingly, Tyranius. Magtherius’s curiosity peaked as he tracked down the two, coming up behind the archangels. Both of them were leaned agains a railing, looking down into the training yard below and even from here, Magtherius could feel the quiver of many small resonances. The archangel of virtue cleared his throat as he stepped up beside the two, glancing over.

“Everything going well?” Maghterius asked.

“See for yourself,” Tyranius said, her tone amused, “Seems your temperamental fledgling has met their match.”

Magtherius cocked his head before looking down into the play yard. 

Most of the younger fledglings were off in the corner, actively avoiding the darker angel, their small resonances curious, but also unsure of what to make of the silently angel, however, there was one little fledgling, a very small, bundle of robes with two barely formed tiny wings out their back, that was all but clinging onto Malthael. 

The dark fledlging didn’t seem to know what to do, standing stock still in place as this tiny angel all but climbed up on top of him, huffing and poking him all over, as if assessing him closely, tiny wings buzzing excitedly. Magtherius couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. 

“Ah, you have a very brave one there,” Magtherius observed, one hand rising to pet over Trag’oul’s disguised head, causing him to let out a pleased trill.

“Very brave.” Tyranius drawled, “Too brave in fact. Found the little apricot trying to play with demon imps at the boarder of the camp! I come out and there they are, wrestling about with the demonic spawn, thinking the whole thing is a game while they are trying to eat them! Kept charging the demonic beasts and then darting about like it was a game of tag.”

Killenthiel chuckled, “Got too much of your bravery.” he commented, “You are going to have your hands full trying to keep that one alive long enough to be an adult. A little fear is healthy enough.” 

“Oh that one will make it,” The archangel of victory’s wings flared out in a glow of affection, “the little apricot is a warrior after my own heart already.” 

Below, Malthael had managed to wiggle out the grasp of the little angel, already trying to flutter away. Their new friend though did not seem to be perturbed, already charging after Malthael, all but tackling him down with excited, loud yells of half formed yells and gibberish of a fledgling just starting to get a hold of words. The two tussled about before Malthael just let out a huff, sitting up and letting the other fledgling continued to nuzzle up and roll about him. It wasn’t long before the two were moving about in a game of tag, the smaller fledgling being the one to teach Malthael the rules. 

It warmed Magtherius’s core to see the two continue to play. For once it seemed his ward was perhaps enjoying the company of some other angel that wasn’t a familiar adult. Perhaps this would be a friend more their age they could even stick close to during school.

It seemed a shame to end the play date now. 

“Would you mind if I leave Malthael here for a while more? I would hate to interrupt the two.” Magtherius murmured. 

“Leave your ward here as long as you like. I’ll keep an eye on them and if I can’t, I have other eyes watching the fledglings at all times,” Tyranius said, “Best to let the little ones have their fun and get it out of their system before they want to settle. Arch knows the little apricot there will try to follow you all the way back to your tower. Already a strong flyer despite how small...”

“Oh that is always fun.” Killenthiel said with a shake of his head, “Once they start flying, you practically have to keep them tucked under one arm to make sure they don’t dart off.” 

Magtherius chuckled, “I can only imagine.” He took a step back, giving a nod to the two, “I’ll take the time then to get some work done.”

Trag’oul lept off Magtherius’s shoulder, perching on the railing, letting out humming coos and trills, fluffing up their feathers, eyes wide and fixed on Malthael. He looked back at Magtherius, letting out a loud cries, conveying clearly a desire to stay and play too.

Tyranius snorted, “….you and that damn bird again eh? Thought it flew off.”

“Flew off briefly, but is back now.” Magtherius said, moving to hold out his arm, a silent request for Trag’oul to perch again. The disguised celestial let out a disappointed trill, but did as asked, fluffing out the feathers in a pout.

“Valenriel will be happy. They love that bird of yours.” Killenthiel said with a chuckle, “And I wish you luck in getting your work done although I will miss the lack of art on it.”

“You might, but I’m sure the ministers will be happy to not have it,” Magtherius gave a shake of his head, “I will see you later.”

He cast one look down to where Malthael and the “little apricot” of Tyranius’s were continued to pounce about and play as only fledglings could, all flutters and rough housing. It was good to see Malthael playing like that, only cementing further that despite the nature of his birth, they were normal. 

They were as much an angel of Heaven as any fledgling.

He couldn’t help the joy in his soul as he took to wing. The work would be easier to handle knowing the fledgling was happy. 

He could be at peace knowing that Malthael had a chance to realize he was fine just the way he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding and starting to slowly set things up for where this will go c: also look! A baby Imperius! fearlessly tackling the strange fledgling! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy c:


	3. A Time of Firsts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter! A cute one of dumb fledglings and some small drops of information of things to come.... starting chapter four, things are going to start coming together...

Magtherius wasn’t sure who was more nervous about the first day of school, himself or Malthael.  
Both of them stood staring at the building, making no moves towards it even as fledglings flocked up the stairs and through the doors and their caretakers gave ways and shouted words of advice. The archangel of virtue honestly was trying his best not to pick Malthael up and head back to their home and put off this whole day for another week. Or another month. Quickly Magtherius clamped down on those anxious feelings, biting back a sigh. Tyranius warned him this would happen. 

The first day of school for angels was always a trying time, even for the most social of fledglings. For caretakers, it was that first step in starting to let go and remove one small support to urge their charge forward to discover themselves. 

It had been a few months since Malthael had picked his name and now a few weeks since the little one had decided that he wanted to be a “he” both because he wanted to match his mentor, so he communicated, but also because he liked a shorter address and the single rune that made up a “he” was easier to write. Such choices were a sign of a fledgling starting to grow more independent and far more curious about figuring things out themselves. Already Magtherius found his ward starting to push back and arguing about things and start to want to spend more time away from the tower to play with Imperius and his lightsong siblings. 

All of those behaviors, the archangel knew, meant it was time for proper schooling.

Even so, it didn’t make this whole day less stressful.

Especially when Malthael was still non-verbal.

And by the arch, had the headmaster of the school raised the spirits of Hell themselves protesting how Malthael shouldn’t enter the school because of that and instead be given to one of the other angels without song as a personal tutor. As it should be, they said. The argument was he could not learn like other angels, that his darker nature made him more fit to be among the song less and to learn their ways. 

All of it was completely demon shit, although Magtherius didn’t say that straight out. Not in as vulgar of terms at least, and eventually they had capitulated, more because Magtherius had surprising back up from Tyranius who stepped in to put his argument into more aggressive, strongly worded remarks. Afterwards of course, she had made a point to make it clear she had done it more out of the fact her “little apricot” would be devastated if his best of friends wasn’t in the same class as him.

Magtherius wasn’t sure if he should be concerned or grateful for the apparent temper tantrums that Tyranius’s little apricot Imperius was capable of to make the archangel of victory to step in on Malthael’s behalf. Regardless, Malthael had gotten enrolled and was to be the first his kind to sit within a classroom and learn.

If it proved a success, Magtherius was more than prepared to push the matter to allow other fledglings of those without songs to be enrolled and to stop the needless separation of them from the rest of Heaven’s population.

The archangel of virtue had fought hard to get his ward enrolled.

Now though, standing there before the imposing building, Magtherius felt the fears and reluctance of before start to rise. It didn’t help to calm Magtherius’s own nerves when Malthael too, did not seem pleased. The little angel was clinging to his leg, peering at the building before them with a posture of distrust, his satchel of books clutched to his side tightly. The fledgling peered up at Magtherius and was quick to shake his head, preemptively making his opinions clear. 

The archangel of virtue sighed softly before moving to crouch down to get to the level of his ward, “Malthael, I told you we were going to go here today. You were so curious and excited before.”

Malthael shook his head in denial, despite the fact that he had practically camped out in front of the door, all but bouncing around in excitement to go only minutes earlier. The archangel of virtue chuckled, reaching out to put a hand on the head of the fledgling, “Now Malthael, no fibs. Then you have to remember a hundred lies to keep straight,” he chided, “You were at least a little excited.”

The fledgling scuffed a foot against the ground, giving a disgruntled nod before peering at the school building and the little angels already flocking inside. Some had paused to look at Malthael with no small amount of curiosity. For many, it would be the first time feeling an angel with no song to their resonance. 

Fear once more flared in Magtherius that he was sending Malthael into a situation where he would just become more isolated. He quickly moved to quell those concerns and make an effort to keep it out ofh is body language. It was the fear of any caretaker that their ward would not make friends, but fears were merely speculations, not truths. The more he believed in that being the outcome, he would only work to make it become a fulfilled happenstance. 

“It will be all right,” Magtherius finally said, both to assure Malthael and himself, “And when the day is over, as soon as you come out, I will be right here to come get you. I promised.”

He extended the pinky finger of his hand out to the tiny fledgling who eyed it before reaching forward to hook his own about the angels. It was a gesture of great promise in Heaven, used more between close personal friends. The use of the smallest finger was one to indicate a vulnerability, putting oneself out to undertake the burden of the whole. 

“There, my most sacred and solemn oath swore,” Maghterius said softly, tone amused glancing up as he saw Tyranius land, “You will be fine and you won’t be alone.”

The archangel of victory was shuffling about, yelling rather loudly as she did her best to temper the excitement of the five fledglings she was carrying. Four of the fledglings were content to keep clinging to her form, chattering excitedly. However, both her hands were firmly clasped about a squirming mass of tiny gold that was fighting mighty to get out of her grip and go charging forward. Tyranius did not let go of her little prisoner until she was crouched on the ground, and even then, was quick to grab the fledgling by his wing tips to keep him still enough to at least somewhat listen to her words.

However, as soon as the excited fledgling saw Malthael, he was squirming out of the grip of his caretaker and sprinting across the promenade before Tyranius could catch him, “Malthael! Malthael you are here!”

Malthael jolted, looking about Magtherius before he was slipping through the legs of the archangel of virtue, wings fluttering excitedly as he went to meet the ball of fire and vigor coming their way.

“I was so worried you wouldn’t come! I haven’t seen you in like...five days!” Imperius shouted loudly.

Malthael sheepishly dipped his head, tugging at the tassels about his hood before looking at the school nervously. His friend only laughed, reaching to tug on his arm, “What? No! Buildings can’t hurt us Malthael! So silly!” the fiery fledlging paused, “But if it did, I would fight it and win!”

Magtherius chuckled, rising to his feet as an exasperated Tyranius came over, “Your Impeirus is as spirited as ever.”

“Too spirited.” she grumbled, “Frankly I’m glad for school as someone else can keep an eye on him and I can get some work done. You take an eye off him and he’s off charging into some sort of danger.”

“At least he isn’t trying to play with imps anymore?”

“No,” Tyranius shook her head, starting to set her calmer fledglings down, “Now he is trying to fight all of Hell to prove his might.”

Magtherius chuckled, “Sounds like you as a fledgling.”

She huffed, shooting Magtherius a look, “I was not this brave. I swear all the bravery, courage, and valor of those passed was distilled into this one. Not a single bit of fear in him.”

The archangel of virtue looked over to where Imperius was all but tugging a reluctant Malthael along, babbling on about what they would do and all the adventures to come, “Then I suppose it is good he has a more cautious friend to keep him in line.”

“Cautious, but not strong enough to temper my little apricot’s enthusiasm. Malthael is far too meek,” Tyranius murmured. 

“Give it time. You might be surprised,” Magtherius watched as Malthael and Imperius moved up the steps, the former pausing a moment to look back at the archangel of virtue. His ward lifted his hand, holding out his pinky, a silent reminder of their promise. 

Magtherius returned the gesture with a nod, “Have a good day, Malthael!”

Malthael gave a nod before he was pulled through the doorway and into the school. Magtherius stood there, hands clasped behind his back, staring ahead and crushing down the desire to go hover at the doorway and to keep an eye on Malthael for as long as he could. He was pulled from those worries by a hand on his shoulder, glancing to Tyranius.

“Let him go. He needs to be on his own.” Tyranius said, “I know it is hard, but trust me, this is for the best. Good or bad, school is not about learning knowledge, but becoming resilient, learning to handle what life will bring.” 

“But if it is only bad-”

“If it is only bad, then that is when you step in as a caregiver to set things right,” Tyranius interrupted, “But keeping him sheltered and tucked away will be worse for him.” 

Magtherius gave a nod, letting out a soft, resigned sigh, “You are right. I can’t be there for him always but still, you know he is different.”

“I know. I was there for his birth,” the archangel of victory gently shooed her other fledglings towards the door, the group of them hurrying further after their braver sibling, “But different doesn’t mean any less a sentient social creature. Even demons like the company of others. For all you know, your little one might be far more social you think.”

“True.” Magtherius gave a shake of his head, “Thank you Tyranius. Your council is always appreciated.”

“Sure it is,” she drawled, slapping Magtherius on the back, “Only when you want to hear it you old windbag.”

The archangel of virtue let out a small huff, but didn’t retort. Mostly because her words were true enough. The two butted heads as often as they agreed on points. However, he did not see that as entirely negative. The unity of Heaven came not from everyone agreeing, but from the means in which they compromised. Tyranius’ opinions rang loud and in opposition to his own, but at the core, the two respected and cared for one another. 

Old rivalries, after all, were meant to be built on respect and adoration, not hatred and fear. 

Magtherius gave one more look to the school, reciting a silent prayer for Malthael before he leapt into the air, wings spreading wide as he flew towards the core of Heaven. He had work to do, as ever. It was simply the by product of being the ruler of Heaven, but already he was making sure that all discussions and meetings would be cleared by the conclusion of the school day. 

He had a promise to keep that was more important than all the eternal conflict. 

If only the anticipation of seeing his ward again didn’t seem to drag on so much. Time seemed to crawl by and the archangel of virtue found himself sneaking glances over to the various sundials about the citadel of the ageris council. He tried to be subtle but more than once, he had a member of the lower council of archangels clearing their throat loudly to pull his attention to the matter at hand. 

The upper archangels though, those on the angiris council, seemed more amused. Valenthiel in particular seemed far wiser to what was the reason behind Magtherius’s constant glances about to check the time during their meeting and as it came to a conclusion, they were quick to come up beside the archangel of virtue, giving a nudge to his arm.

“First day of school?” they asked, amusement clear in their voice.

“Aye. That it is,” He murmured, “And I promised to meet Malthael at the end of the day.”

“Ah, the struggle of a caretaker letting their fledglings fly away,” Valenthiel said with a nod, “T I’m sure my brother will be the same as you if today was the first day of my nieces start at school.”

“Oh?” Magtherius cocked his head, “I did not realize they picked a name.”

“She,” Valenthiel corrected softly, “But ah, that is the trouble. She won’t pick a name. From what I’m told, she wants to have no name and go feral, live in the wild with the cherubim and build nests.”

Magtherius couldn’t help a chuckle, “Wild is she?”

“Wild, crass, and no manners or concept of personal space,” Valenthiel said, tone amused, “But she is still a friendly and curious soul, just her love is a tad aggressive, like any proper angel of the Amorinum tribe.”

Magtherius shook his head,“Your love has never been aggressive, Valenthiel,” he said affectionately. 

The archangel of joy chuckled softly, nudging up against Magtherius again, one wing flicking out to brush along his own, “That is because I like to be gentle with you.” they said, voice low, “Have to keep that naive and trusting nature in tact, yes?”

Magtherius snorted, “Please, Valenthiel, do not mistake my mercy for naivety or that I trust easily. Both are far from the truth.”

“If you insist, Magtherius. If you insist,” Valenthiel gave a shake of their head, “But I highly doubt there is a mean note in your soul.”

Magtherius only chuckled, voicing no further protest. Many tended to see him as being naive and too trusting and it often caused others to lower their guard around them. There was this idea that there was no need to be subtle around him for he would brush it off or something like that. Little did they know, he worked with demons that were more likely to betray if his guard was dropped. 

Or the fact that there was but a very small number in Heaven that he trusted completely and did not suspect of being behind the movement that was subtly trying to push him off the throne. He was not so foolish to realize in a past few battles he was often in situations that put his life at great risk.

Those concerns though, were his to bare and not ones he was about to voice with Valenthiel.

“I am surprised though that your relatives haven’t called you in to talk with your niece,” Magtherius said, changing the topic as they walked along the hall, “Usually you are good with explaining such things to fledgling Amorinums.”

“Usually yes, but she is a strong-willed one,” they cocked their head towards Magtherius, “I look after her from time to time. Perhaps maybe I can bring her by and you talk to her? Maybe she will listen to you?”

“You don’t even listen to me Valenthiel. I can only imagine how well it will go with your niece,” Magtherius drawled.

“The worse is she will try to bite you and declare herself a cherubium who has no need of school,” Valenthiel said, “Fake a few tears and a sad soul and she will start bawling and apologizing and climb up you to pat your face. She can’t keep mean for long.”

Magtherius shook his head, “I will see about it. For now,” he looked over to the sundial, seeing it inching to mere minutes before school would let out, “I have a very important appointment to keep.”

“Of course. Tell Malthael I said hi,” Valenthiel said with a bow of their head, “It has been an age since I’ve seen him and I wanted to ask how his drawing is going.”

“Come by and I’m sure you can maybe coax him to show you his art,” Magtherius said with a chuckle as he quickly took to the air.

The archangel of virute was a streak across the sky as he quickly made his way to the school, dropping down to land in the courtyard amongst the other caretakers who had arrived. A few of them glanced his way before their attention was drawn back to the school as the doors began to open with a groan. The other two buildings that flanked the courtyard also began to let out, trickles of fledglings starting to come rushing out.

The older students took to the air quickly in choirs together, heading off to activities of their own while the little ones came charging down stairs or fluttering ahead. In the sea of bodies, there was a black spot, that all but sprinted down the stairs, taking to wing to come charging towards Magtherius.

The archangel of virtue had to take a step back, wings flared in surprise as Malthael all but tackled into him, clinging on like his very existence depended on holding onto Magtherius and not letting go. The archangel of virtue looked down, both hands resting on the back of the tiny angel clinging to him, “Malthael? What’s wrong?”

“He...he had a bad day.” A voice wheezed from far below.

Magtherius gaze went from Malthael to where Imperius stood, the tiny fledgling bent over, hands on his knees, tired from trying to keep up with his friend’s sudden sprint, “The teachers yelled at him a lot because he wouldn’t speak and then these stupid fledglings tried to pick a fight, but it is okay,” Imperius puffed up, “I fought them all and won! I am no bumblebee! I am a might angel warrior!”

“Ah….thank you Imperius,” Magtherius murmured, managing to pry Malthael off him, moving to hold the fledgling now in the crook of his arm. 

Malthael was refusing to look at him, face buried against his shoulder. A pang went through Magtherius as he could tell his ward was very distraught and it seemed Imperius was now a target of mockery due to his friendship. Something Magtherius knew his charge would pick up on and come down hard on himself about.

All of Magtherius’s worries came flooding back from before and he wondered if this had been the right choice to make.

“You don’t have to get into fights to prove your strength, Imperius,” He said softly, “I do hope you didn’t get in too much trouble?”

“I did, but it was worth it!” Imperius declared, tiny wings flaring out as he ignored Magtherius’s statement about not needing to fight, “It was a matter of honor!” 

Magtherius gave a small nod, looking up and tensing when he saw one of the teachers storm out, looking about the crowd and he had a suspicion they were looking for him to try and argue against Malthael being in school. No doubt every teacher in the school was told by the headmaster to find every reason why his ward should be tossed out. 

“Well, we shall see you tomorrow Imperius,” the archangel said quickly, already turning to take to flight, “And tell Tyranius of what happened.”

“I will!” Imperius said before starting to charge over to where his own caretaker had landed. 

Tyranius glanced over, catching Magtherius’s gaze as he gave a small glance to the teacher before taking to wing. The archangel of victory looked over, her posture tense, hands on her hips before starting to stock over. 

She would handle the teacher. If they had punished Imperius for anything, she would have a tirade of angry words to unleash upon them. It gave Magtherius the chance to get away and back to the safety of his study. He would not allow his ward to hear his instructor heaping more damning and hurtful words upon Malthael when his ward was curled in his arms. He would not stand for anyone to put Malthael down for reasons far out his control. He touched down gently on the balcony of his tower, quickly entering and with a flick of his wings, closed the doors behind him to keep any unwanted visitors away. He qas quick to move to his favorite chair to take a seat, one hand gently patting Malthael’s back.

“Whatever was said to you today, it is not true,” he murmured, “You and I both know that. That you are far more capable of school than they want to give you credit for.”

Malthael gave a shake of his head, clutching tighter to Magtherius. The archangel of virtue let out a soft sigh, moving a hand to cup his ward’s chin to have him look at him, “No, it is true. You can read and write and few fledglings can at your age. Just because you don’t speak yet, does not make you any less,” he chuckled softly, “Why, the day you do start to talk, when you let all those words stewing in your heart and head out, these teachers are going to be rocked back on their heels and you have my permission, when that day comes, to not hold back. Frankly, they will deserve whatever tongue lashing you decide to unleash.”

The dark fledgling glanced away briefly before looking at Magtherius, giving a small nod, giggling softly. The archangel of virtue chuckled softly, continuing to comfort his ward, “Do not be afraid. You have no need to be afraid. There is power in you, knowledge that I know you’ll let them hear one day. They are simply scared of your potential you know. The quiet ones are always the ones they can’t predict.”

Malathael glanced up, head cocked before shaking his head, letting out another small giggle. Magtherius moved to tap him on the head, “Oh don’t play coy! I’ve seen the things you write! You have a lot of opinions about a lot of things. Think you know everything and probably you do know more than some of your teachers. If they put you down now, they hope to keep you from talking is all. They are scared once you start talking, you’ll be teaching the class!”

It was probably not good to goad Malthael’s ego like this and make him really think he was smarter than some adult angels, but Magtherius felt a little spite himself against them. He had spoken to all the instructors in person to lay out how best to work with Malthael. He had been explicit in saying that trying to force Malthael to talk would cause him to act out. Knowing that regardless of his instructions, they had done so anyways made it clear they were doing what they could to incite an incident.

Malthael could throw temper tantrums. He would flip over tables and lash out at others. More than a few fledglings were sent running scared just around the tire when they tried to tease Malthael. Even some adults had seen the fury of his ward in terms of ripped up papers and books. It was these reactions that made others blame it on the fact he had no resonance. 

To Magtherius, he saw it as merely frustration and having no way yet to convey those feelings properly.

It was why Magtherius never yelled at Malthael when he threw a fit. The fledgling was smart. Malthael knew what he did was wrong and was frustrated often for other reasons. There was no need to snap when most of the time, it wasn’t a single individual that had Malthael losing his temper, but a variety of other situations culminating into one. 

If the instructors just gave him a chance, just adapted as Magtherius suggested to better reach him, they would find a student with great potential.

“Tomorrow will be different,” Magtherius said softly, “Yes? You won’t let this bad day stop you from going right?”

His ward paused, head tilted thoughtfully before he sat back. He stared off for a while before giving a slow nod, one tiny hand raising to his chin to rub it, a clear sign that Malthael was thinking about something and plotting out what to do. 

The archangel of virtue nodded, raising a hand to ruffle the top of Malthael’s head affectionately, “There’s a brave lad. Imperius will be pleased. Now then, do you have homework?”

Malthael nodded, although he was still rubbing his chin, distracted by whatever thought he had gotten into his head. Slowly he pulled away from Magtherius, still stroking his chin as he started to ascend the stairwell. 

Magtherius watched him go, chuckling before heading to his own desk to handle some paperwork and well, keep his head down to avoid the tirade of any angry teachers that might come to his door. 

Tomorrow would be different. 

That is what he told himself. That is what he continued to tell himself as he took Malthael to school again. That is what he told himself himself as he set his ward down and this time, Malthael didn’t pull back. Instead, he straightened his shoulders, standing stock still and waiting until Imperius came before he moved forward. Each day Magtherius returned to wait for Malthael, watching his ward stalk out of the school, head bowed and seething, but each following day he was talking right back to the school.

Every time they returned home, Malthael was quick to retreat to his room and at times, Magtherius swore he hear the murmurs of a tiny voice but when he went up to check, curious if Malthael was finding his voice, he would only find his ward, sitting silent as always, carefully writing out the exercises for his homework. 

Each day was going to be different. That is what Magtherius told himself, praying that the repetition of those words would lead to something that would change his ward’s social life. 

Two weeks later, everything did indeed change.

The archangel of virtue arrived to the school as always with Malthael and set him down and Imperius was quick to come over, already chattering away for the two of them. Malthael remained silent as always, but his gaze was set ahead, and there was a determined lift to his wings, a tiny rasp of them that Magtherius realized he only heard when his ward was well, about to do something. 

Usually something that was a cause for alarm. Magtherius felt an uneasy lift enter his soul, eyeing his ward with slight suspicion. The last time his ward had acted like this, he had written a formal complaint to the tower next to his own about how they were too loud and had thrown in a few...colorful insults. 

That had been both an amusing and stressful day, having the neighbors demand to know what he was teaching his fledgling despite the fact Malthael had orchestrated the whole complain on his own and then hand delivered the letter to them, all puffed up with pride and indignation. 

Malthael was up to something but what, Magtherius wasn’t sure. 

But then, that was the schools problem as far as the archangel of virture saw it as they were the ones to push him to want to snap back. A chuckle escaped Magtherius as he turned on his heels to head to the citadel again. He was looking forward to coming back later to see just how different the day had went. 

It turned out he did not have to wait as long as he though. 

Just past noon, the doors to his office were thrown open and a haggard looking teacher was in the doorway, wings spread in alarm, “Lord Magtherius! You are required at the school!”

“At the school?” He said, cocking his head, “Is there a reason I am being summoned? I am in the middle of supply lists for the war effort on the frontlines.”

“Your fledgling he...” the teacher paused, noting the slight twitch of the archangel’s wings. They quickly cleared their throat, looking aside, "The fledglings of the lower grades are in full...rebellion at the urging of your ward.”

“My ward? Are you certain?” Magtherius asked, “I do not see how such thing is possible with just writing notes-”

“He can speak and speak loudly at that!” The teacher retorted, wings flared, “You have to stop this!”

Magtherius paused before slowly rising to his feet and making his way pass the teacher on his way out, “Mmm. Let me see the situation then but I thought I told you, he does not speak. Are you sure it is not his friend who is speaking for him?”

“Your ward can speak!” The teacher insisted, “He spoke today, I swear on the resonances of my sires!”   
Magtherius felt a tremor of excitement in his soul as well as amusement as he took to wing. The only thing that drove his haste in reaching the school was the fact he wanted to see if what the teacher really was true and if so, knowing now what his ward was being secretive about. 

Malthael never showed anything, after all, if he didn’t feel it was being done well. If he was trying to talk since after the first day of school, he would have waited to show off the talent he had been training in secret these past few weeks. 

By the time Magtherius arrived, he courtyard was already abuzz with talk and more than a few frazzled teachers covered in ink and parchment. Paper balls and books were thrown about out the window and the giggles and loud rancorous clamber of fledglings running amok inside could be heard. Some of the older students were peering at the window, trying to get a view of the grade one building to see what was going on. The headmaster was standing there, looking very irate, a splatter of ink dripping down their hood. As soon as the angry angel caught sight of the ruler of heaven arriving, they stalked over to him, a finger held up angrily.

“Did you put your fledlging up to this!? You told me he was non-verbal!” they shouted, “You said he couldn’t talk!” 

“I told you he doesn’t talk. Not that he can’t. I simply said to not push him to try and talk before he was ready” Magtherius responded, “And it seems whatever your teachers did yesterday has helped him to find his voice, if I’m to believe he is speaking at all.”

“He is! Go see for yourself!” The headmaster thundered gesturing towards the grade one building, “The school is in complete turmoil!”

Magtherius hummed before striding forward towards the building, noting the tiny heads peering out and starting to hush one another like the choir of sudden rebels they were. He stopped at the foot of the stairs to the door, looking up and honestly, only finding amusement by all of this. 

Thus, he decided to merely play along.

“Who is the leader of your rebellion?” He asked, raising his voice, “I, lord Magtherius, ruler of Heaven, have come in person to negotiate the terms of peace with them!”

There was giggles and murmurs in response for a bit before he saw Malthael pop his head up, Imperius peeking over at his side, covered in ink and holding a slab of parchment with a symbol drawn on it crudely, the symbol of their tiny rebellion. 

“We dun want homeworks!” Malthael shouted down, “And maths is boring!” 

Malthael’s spoken words were crude, his voice high-pitched and reedy, hoarse from obvious lack of use, and every word came out jumbled and not as refined as one would expect for his age. But they were spoken words delivered with confidence and pride enough to get the others to rise up. They were a sound of pure beauty to Magtherius who couldn’t stop the tremor of happiness and pride in his should that had his wings fluttering in excitement at hearing Malthael finally speak.

He did his best to try and curb his excitement to continue playing along though, raising his voice once more to shout to his ward.

“But how will you learn and study without those?” Magtherius asked, “How about we learn math, but in a more fun way with games perhaps?”

Malthael pulled back and there was a murmur of discussion before he sat up, “No math, no schools! Just books and recess!” 

Magtherius put his hands on his hips, glancing over his shoulder at the angels of Heaven expecting him to bring this to an end, and then to the tiny fledglings giggling and peering at him. He could feel their amusement, their excitement at doing all this. They were proud of their tiny rebellion or simply saw it as a game for now. They were still young and still getting use to what it meant to study.

Who was he to ruin the fun of little ones?

“You speak with great wisdom Lord Malthael,” Magtherius declared, “Perchance, would you permit me to join your rebellion? I will give you information on your foes to better negotiate your terms!” 

Malthael jolted before nodding excitedly, wings a raspy blur behind him, “Yes! You can join!” 

Magtherius heard the protests from behind him as he strode forward, entering the building and making his way up the stairs to where Malthael and the others had been. His ward was practically hovering in delight at having his own mentor take his side and soon the archangel of virtue was settled in with the fledglings as the headmaster came over to start yelling in protest once more only to retreat as the fledglings unleashed wads of paper and inkwell at the poor soul. 

Eventually Killenthriel arrived, arms crossed as he looked up at Magtherius and the horde of fledglings disturbing the peace, shaking his head, but also finding it better to play along as he started up the new negotiations. 

Magtherius handled the “negotiations” this time, speaking on the behalf of the rebels. Bless their little resonances, they had no idea what they were fighting for, only that they had been whipped into a frenzy by Malthael mouthing off to his teacher, pointing out they were wrong about some minor points in history he had read. Slurred words and all, Malthael had just spoken and hadn’t let up even when the teacher started to try and shout over him. 

He had practiced all night to force himself to speak, eking out tiny words to try and convey what he wanted. The dark angel had taken Magtherius’s words to heart and prepared himself to yell back at a teacher. That act of bravery had Imperius of course starting to yell and the rest of the class soon joined in and from there, the rebellion was born. 

Still, the game had to come to an end and a “comprimise” made. The entire time Magtherius negotiated, Malthael was talking non-stop now, chattering away his advice with the eagerness of an angel warrior given his first weapon. 

Most of it was babble of words being mispronounced and garbled, but it was spoken language and every sound brought a surge of joy to Magtherius’s soul, repeating each word down to Killenthriel and putting forth a means to “appease” the rebels. 

By the time school let out and a horde of parents were there, a peace treaty had been reached and the headmaster looked utterly exasperated as they signed off on the new “contract” that gave the fledglings a longer recess and added a choir class to the first grade level. The fledglings were all besides themselves with pride, rushing up to parents to talk about their part in the whole thing. 

Imperius in particular kept waving his crude banner around, loudly recounting the story of the great war he fought with ink and quill to a more than amused Tyranius. The four other in her care were also babbling at the same time, showing off the ink-stain battle wounds as if they had survived some great conflict. 

As for Magtherius, he flew off with a chattering fledgling on his shoulder, Malthael going a mile a minute in his broken eager words, as if he stopped now, he would go back to not speaking anymore. It took a good long while to calm Malthael down enough to understand more of what he was trying to say, especially with how he was still slurring words together in a jumble. 

Magtherius was just pleased to hear him talking with such confidence.

“Everyone liked what I said!” Malthael said, slumped over Magtherius’s shoulder, practically wiggling in excitement, “I spokes real wells!” 

“That you did, but with great speaking power comes responsibility too,” Magtherius said gently, “Can’t have war everyday yes? Have to sit and learn things or you’ll be stuck in grade one forever.”

Malthael huffed, wiggling about more, “Tomorrow no need for wars. We got more recesses!” he declared, “I be good now.”

“You are always good Malthael.” Magtherius responded, raising a hand to pat his head, “I’m proud of you.”

Malthael moved to grip onto his hand, “You still come everyday right? After schools?”

“Every day, even when you get older and want me to go away,” Magtherius assured him. 

“I will never wants you to go away,” Malthael huffed, “You mentors!” 

The tiny fledgling paused before turning to snuggle against Magtherius, “I love you.” 

Those tiny words all but melted Magtherius’s resonances and he turned to give his ward a small hug, “And I love you too, Malthael and I could not have asked for a better fledgling to come into my care than you. I’m proud of you, even if everyone else may not be.”

“I don’t cares what they think. Imperius doesn’t care. He says they dumb. They are very dumbs,” Malthael huffed, “I’m not gonna be sads about it. Imperius says that’s dumb too.”

“Your friend seems wise then,” Magtherius chuckled.

Malthael nodded, pausing a bit before starting to slide off Magtherius’s shoulder, wiggling about, “I’m going reads, okay? Okay.” 

“I will be here if you need me,” Magtherius said, amused by how Malthael gave himself permission to leave. 

His ward nodded before scampering up the stares to his own room, shutting the door behind him. In a few moments, Magtherius could hear Malthael talking again, reading out loud from his books and trying to practice his speech now. 

The archangel of virtue couldn’t help but shake his head. That one was going to become a perfectionist to every skill he was introduced to if his care to try and master new things so quickly was any indication. His ward had a thirst for knowledge and a curiosity for the world that was going to push him far if it was tempered correctly. 

Magtherius was pulled from his thoughts by a knock at the door before it opened. He glanced up, relaxing as Valenthiel entered, a tiny angel in the crook of their arm, “Ah, Valenthiel, I did not expect you.”

“I wasn’t planning on coming over, but this little one here would not stop bugging me,” they drawled, looking down at the fledgling sitting primly in their arms, “My niece heard things were crazy at the school.”

“They say there was a fight! A big one! Teachers running and stuff flying!” Valenthiel’s niece said, waving her tiny hands about, “I want to go to school now! It sounds crazy and wild!”

“You need a name, cherub,” Valenthiel said with a shake of their head.

Their niece huffed, shaking her head, “I need no name! I am …I am cherub! Yes! Cherubs don’t have names.” 

Magtherius chuckled sitting back as the tiny angel let out a growl, crooking her fingers like claws to paw at Valenthiel who merely sighed. 

“Cherub-”

“Princess of cherubs!”

“Princess of cherubs,” Valenthiel drawled, “If you want to go to school, you can’t be a wild animal.”

“But school is wild! They threw stuff at a teacher!” the fledlging protested flopping back in Valenthiel’s arms, kicking her feet up, “I don’t need a name! Names are for angels, not wild cherub princesses like me!” 

Magtherius shook his head, “A handful indeed,” he said, amused, “Maybe just call her cherub?”

“Don’t give her ideas, Magtherius. You are suppose to help her want a name that isn’t a nickname,” Valenthiel grumbled. 

There as a creek of the door from above and Magtherius glanced back to see Malthael peering out at the commotion going on downstairs, wings flickering with a curious rasp. The archangel of virtue gave a shrug, turning back to Valenthiel, “According to the headmaster, I’m an enabler for bad behavior in fledglings. However, if she wants to play with the leader of the rebellion, he’s upstairs.”

He expected some protest or something to come from Malthael. Instead, he glanced up to find Malthael quiet and crouched down, gaze fixed on Valenthiel’s niece as she looked up at him curiously. His ward looked to him and then back to this new fledgling, wings pulled in tight to his back and Magtherius could have laughed. 

From rebellion leader back to his shy self.

Unfortunately, Valenthiel’s niece was not so shy, already flitting up to the top of the stairs to look at Malthael, reaching to poke him, “You lead the big war?”

Malthael let out a squeak in response, starting to back pedal and slide down the stairs to hide behind Magtherius’s legs, peering around them at the other fledgling. Her response was to follow him down, practically sliding down on her belly, following him around with a curious lift to her wings. 

“Why are you so shy? I won’t bite you! Cherubium don’t hunt tiny things!” She said, a giggle in her voice as she continued to follow after Malthael, “I want to be friends! You did big things and I like big wild things!” 

Magtherius’s ward just shook his head continuing to move about, peering shyly back at the other angel. Eventually though he was all but tackled to the ground by Valenthiel’s nice, letting out a yelp as she sat on him, giggling more, “Come on! Let’s be friends all right?”

“….okay….” Malthael murmured out, looking away, “But I’m not a good friend.”

“You don’t know that!” she responded, patting his head, “I think you look cool! Different! I like different!” 

Valenthiel chuckled as Malthael all but tugged on his tassels to pull them tight, looking over at Magtherius, “They are getting along.”

“Indeed...” Magtherius sat back, watching as Malthael slowly sat up himself, still looking down shyly. 

Valenthiel’s niece leaned forward, trying to peer up into Malthael’s hood, “Do you got a name?”

“...Malthael.” 

She paused, thoughtfully, “I never heard that name, did you make it up?”

“..yeah. I looks it up in book. It special meanings. Secret meanings.” Malthael mumbled. 

Valenthiel’s niece gasped softly, “Oh! You must be smart!”

She paused thoughtfully before she moved to nudge at Malthael, putting her tiny hands on his shoulder, he tone becoming serious, “Everyone keeps saying I need a name to go to school, but I don’t want a name,” She leaned in to whisper, as if the adults couldn’t hear her, “I’m bad at coming up with a name. All of them sound so dumb...”

Malthael just cocked his head at her, loosening his grip on his tassels some, “I bet they aren’ts...”

“No they are dumb,” She assured him, pausing before looking shyly at Malthael, “But you make names with secret meanings….can you make up a secret meaning name for me?”

That had Malthael jolting, letting go of his tassels to sit up, “What me? But-but names are specials! You should makes it up!”

Valenthiel’s niece shook her head, grabbing onto his hand to pull him towards the stairs, “No, no! I want you to do it! Give me a secret name. Maybe on that starts with an A? I like that letter most of all! It is the first letter! So that makes it best! A special A name fit for a princess of cherubs!” 

Magtherius chuckled as the two fledglings clambered up the stairs, turning to look at Valenthiel, “Trust a fledgling to want only another fledgling to help them, yes?”

“Typical logic of little angels,” Valenthiel responded with a chuckle of their own, “I just hope the name she gets isn’t ah….too weird.”

“I’m sure Malthael will give her a good name. He is very particular about things being a certain way. I just hope your niece doesn’t cause him to go back to being too shy to talk.”

“She would never let that happen. Not with those that are a curiosity to her.” Valenthiel moved to take a seat as Magtherius turned back to his work.

The conversation lulled into more political talks, going over the meeting and more or less voicing worries. The archangel of joy was always a good listener and far more a creative, gentle soul, happiest when applying their skills in art rather than politics. The only reason they had taken the position was to ensure the safety of their people in the wilds and to help adjust them to the move closer to Heaven. Altruistic by nature, the more unsavory parts of politics tended to push Valenthiel away.

It was one reason Magtherius felt he could trust them, if only for the fact that Valenthiel would be rather quick to say that there was a murmur going around Heaven. 

It was about half an hour later when Valenthiel’s niece came hopping down the stairs happily, pulling Malthael along. Her tiny blue wings were spread wide as she came up to Valenthiel, puffed up proudly now. 

“I have a name now. One with a secret meaning,” She declared.

“Oh? And what am I calling you?” Valenthiel asked, leaning forward. 

The fledgling put her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest as she flared her wings proudly, “Auriel. My name is Auriel.” 

“Auriel? That is a very pretty name, what do you think Magtherius?” 

Magtherius nodded, “A lovely name. It is a pleasure to meet you Auriel. I am Magtherius, lord of Heaven and this is my ward, Malthael.”

“I know,” She said with a giggle, “And I’m Auriel! Princess of Cherubiums and all the wilds!”

Valenthiel shook their head, reaching down to pick Auriel up, “Calm down there. Let’s make you princess of your sire’s garden before we take on the wilds just yet.”

Auriel huffed, but her mood brightened up immediately as she tugged at Valenthiel’s hood, “But I got a name so I can go to school right? I want to be in Malthael’s class! I want to meet Imperius! Can I be in their class? Please?”

“I’ll take you tomorrow and make sure of it,” Valenthiel assured her, rising to their feet, “But I think we need to get home. Your caretakers will be wondering where you are and isn’t it time to feed your collection of bugs?”

Auriel gasped softly both hains rising to where her mouth would be, “Yes! I have to feed them! Mr. Bigsbu will be so hungry now!” 

The newly named fledgling turned towards Malthael, leaning down to pat his head, “I’ll see you tomorrow Malthael and then we can play more at school! And you can introduce me to Impeirus! He sounds fun too! I want to make friends with everyone!” 

Malthael looked at the floor shyly, scuffing his foot against it, “I wants to sees you tomorrow yeah. I like being your friend.”

That had Auriel practically beaming, little wings fluttering, “I like you to Malthael! I will see you tomorrow!” 

Valenthiel chuckled, turning to leave, causing Auriel to crawl up to their shoulder to keep waving at Malthael until the two were out of sight. Magtherius glanced down to his ward who was wiggling about, twiddling his hands together, wings fluttering and rasping together. The archangel of virtue couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“….turning shy are we?”

“No.” Malthael murmured, “I just like her alots...”

“A lot you say?”

“She’s very nice.” Malthael responded, turning to shuffle back to the stairs, “...I like school nows. Auriel is there. Imperius is here. I’m going back tomorrow right?”

“Of course. School is still on tomorrow despite what happened today,” Magtherius said, his soul all but glowing with happiness, “I’ll come up to get you when it is time to go.”

Malthael nodded as he moved up the stairs to his room, pausing at the top before looking down at Magtherius, “I sees you tomorrow. I love you.” 

“Love you too, Malthael.” 

The fledgling nodded before ducking into his room and quietly shutting the door, starting back up with his reading out loud. 

Magtherius could only chuckle, returning to his work and finally feeling more at peace about Malthael’s schooling. 

Things would turn out all right. That he was sure of. 

Things would be better with such companions for Malthael to attend his studies with and allow him to socialize better among his peers. 

Things would turn out all right.


	4. A Spark of Strife

Chapter 4

“Master Magtherius, I’m leaving now!”

Magtherius had to bite back a sigh as he looked up from where he had been rummaging about within the mess on his desk, glancing over his shoulder, ‘I’ll be down in a minute! I know this document is-”

“Auriel and Itherael are already outside waiting!” Malthael retorted with a whine to his voice, “I can go by myself! I’m not a fledgling anymore!”

“That is debatable at times,” Magtherius murmured under his breat before raising his voice to be heard, turning back to the task at hand, “If you are sure you want to go alone-”

The archangel of virtue’s words were cut off by the slam of the door. Magtherius let out a sigh this time before moving to the window, glancing out to see Malthael, Auriel, and Itherael darting off towards the school, talking loudly with one another. From the bit of conversation he could hear, they were making fun of their carktakers and the “odd adult things” they tended to do.

Typical behavior though for fledgling angels in that strange age between childhood and adulthood where their quest for independence often had them misbehaving and starting to mouth off. Bless be the teachers at the school that had to put up with a classroom of such wise little fools. 

Still, Magtherius couldn’t help the warm glow to his resonance at seeing Malthael being more social and having close friends. Auriel and Itherael were always close by and Imperius, when he made his presence known, often dragged Malthael off into new adventures. They were a quartet of trouble-makers, all starting to grow up and take on aspects of their own unique form.

He still was surprised though at how tall Malthael was getting. His ward now stood almost even with his midriff which was saying something given Magtherius’s own impressive height.

Sometimes though, Magtherius missed that small, quiet fledgling he had raised but that was the fate of all caretakers to want to forever coddle their little ones and not live through the dreaded years of growing pains and smart mouthed comments that made up the period of time before they drew into their adult form. The archangel of virtue shook his head as he drew back from the window, turning back to his desk.

Or what could be seen of his desk as it was covered in a multitude of papers and scrolls, leaving not a single inch of space left uncovered. Usually he kept it more organized, but things had been hectic of late. The meetings were longer and more heated and at times, it seemed the council was a few steps away from an all out brawl as Tyranius disagreed more venomously than before and Killenthriel began to question her far more often, demanding more information to be relinquished. Valenriel had remained silent as ever and Desindeius….

Desindeius was often not even present at the meetings of late and when the archangel of destiny did grace the chamber with their presence, they seemed more paranoid and on edge, sometimes becoming strangely irritated and often leaving meetings before they concluded.

It was wearing Magtherius down and he felt at times he barely had a minute to stretch his wings before some new emergency was demanding his attention. 

It brought a sense of guilt to the archangel’s soul that he wasn’t there as much for Malthael as he used to be, although he still made a point to greet his ward each day when his schooling finished. Even if Malthael complained about it now, claiming he wasn’t a baby and needing so much adult supervision and that Magtherius was somehow suffocating him.

Oh these were trying years indeed.

The archangel of virtue sighed, raising a hand to rub at the back of his head before once more starting to shift through the same piles of papers as before as if the one he was looking for would suddenly materialize on this pass. Arch above, he had just set the damned report down for a minute and it seemed to have vanished into thin air! A grumble escaped the archangel of virtue as he flipped through a stack of documents, hoping to see a familiar title at the top.

“Odd to see you being the unorganized one, Magtherius. Usually you are the one who has all your cherubiums in a line.”

The large angel didn’t glance away from his desk, wings giving a flit as he let out a huff as he moved to another stack of papers, “Please, Valenriel, I have never been neat. Organized chaos is largely how I operate.”

The archangel of joy let out a chuckle as they sauntered in, arms crossed as they looked over the archangel of virtue’s desk, “May I ask what it is you are searching for?”

“The supply list Tyranius sent me,” he grumbled, “If I ask her to send it again, I’m pretty sure she will come up here, breath down my neck while digging her fingers into my shoulders as she recites every last thing on the list and makes me both write it down and commit it to memory.” 

“You sure that is the only thing she would do?”

Magtherius glanced over at Valenriel, his wings flaring slightly. The tone the other archangel used sent a chill through his resonance. There was unease, an uncertainty that the archangel of joy often took great pains to mask. 

Something was troubling them.

“Tyranius is vocal yes, but she has never done anything against me,” Magtherius said with a shake of his head, “Our relationship is stormy, but we trust one another. I have no reason to suspect her of any ill-will towards me. Really, she is just a bit forceful, nothing more, nothing less.” 

“I know just, well,” Valenriel glanced away, crossing their arms, “Words can be just as damaging and there is an undercurrent of dissonance in Heaven now Magtherius. I’m sure you can feel it the same as I. People are starting to talk and murmur about your methods.”

“They always have, since the day I took the throne. Let us not forget, I’m the first Kyritim to be given supreme rule of Heaven. It did not sit well with a lot of tribes,” He looked over his shoulder at the archangel of joy, “I knew my rule would be difficult and many would push back against me. This dissonance is nothing new, just the usual talk and grumblings.” 

Valenriel gave a shake of their head, “This goes beyond it. Everything feels off. Look at Desindeius. They have always been a bit withdrawn and lost in their studies, but they have never failed in their duty to show up to meetings. You cannot tell me that is normal!”

Magtherius turned away from his desk to look at the archangel of joy. There was distress in their resonance as they stared hard out the window, refusing to look at the other archangel. That same unease though was in the archangel of virtue’s own resonance and he let out a sigh, shaking his head. 

“It isn’t normal,” he agreed softly, “And I am going to speak with Desindeius today to try and find out why they have changed so suddenly. There is a reason, there is a reason for all these sudden tensions. I promise I will find out the root of it all, Valenriel.”

The archangel of joy sighed, shifting from foot to foot, “I hope you find it quickly. A disease can only grow deeper, undetected roots if left to fester, like a kernel of undetected corruption.” 

“Yes, but we cannot point fingers and make wild accusations without evidence or else there will be no support for such moves, especially accusations against Tyranius. The entirety of her warriors would all but riot in protest,” Magtherius responded, moving over to a few books and starting to open them, seeing if perhaps the report had been slipped in, “For now, I do not think her words are the cause. She is too bold to rely on rumors of all things.” 

“If you say so,” Valenriel murmured, “I have my doubts.” 

“Please, if they haven’t killed me thus far, I doubt they are going to manage to do so in the foreseeable future,” Magtherius said with a shake of his head, “Although Tyranius might if I can’t find that blasted report she gave me!” 

the archangel of joy let out a sigh, moving up beside Magtherius and bent down to tug a lose piece of paper from the crack between one of the bookshelves and the archangel of virtue’s desk, handing it to him politely, “I worry about you Magtherius. Taking care of all of this while taking care of a fledgling,” they shook their head, “I can only imagine the stress you are under.”

“Nothing that won’t kill me,” he responded with a weary chuckle, “And eventually things will have to calm down, at least, that is what I tell myself.”

“I hope it does,” Valenriel said quietly, “I would love a chance to get back to my paintings and art. I feel like I’m losing my touch with all the meetings and escalations of the conflict that have been taking place.”

Magtherius shook his head, looking over the document handed to him, wings sagging in relief as it was indeed his missing report, “You’ll never lose your touch Valenriel. Your hands are too blessed with vision to ever make anything less than breathtaking.”

The archangel of joy chuckled, coming over, raising a hand to lower the document in Magtherius’s hands, “Even after all these years, I sometimes forget how much of a charmer you can be.”

“Charming? I simply thought I was being polite.” 

Valenriel cocked their head, wings flicking slowly before they leaned in against the archangel of virtue, pressing their forehead against his shoulder. Magtherius moved to wrap an arm about them, his wings half curling about the other angel, tendrils touching.

“Don’t get yourself killed,” Valenriel said quietly, “Don’t work yourself into oblivion. I think this place would become only more stifling without you here.”

“I don’t plan on going anywhere,” Magtherius said softly, “Not for a very long time. Perhaps though, in time, we will be able to retire from all this. The Hold of Redemption could use your touch.”

Valenriel laughed quietly, stepping back, “Sounds like a date then.” they gave a bow of their head, “Be well, Magtherius.”

“Be well, Valenriel.”

He watched the other archangel take off, his wings giving a small flutter. Valenriel was an open book about their emotions and the worry and fear in their soul, mixed with the concern was genuine, all but glowing in every inch of their resonance. They were worried. 

And so was Magtherius.

His gaze dropped down to the report, looking it over before setting it aside. His mind was too troubled now with Valenriel’s concerns to really read through it. Especially the comments regarding the archangel of destiny. Of all those in Heaven, Desindieus was the oldest archangel and had survived the change of power between rulers three times. A rather substantial number. They had been for generations a steady pillar of stability, guiding Heaven through their visions and had always been a very proactive member of the angiris council. The fact that after so long they were starting to pull away and falling to a strange paranoia was concerning.

A visit to see Desindeius in their own realm was perhaps long overdue. 

Magtherius cast a look over the paperwork on his desk before turning away with a sigh and moving to the balcony, quickly launching himself into the air and making his way to Desindeius’s citadel. 

The flight to the Sanctity of Destiny was always a long one and also one of the more dangerous points to go to in Heaven. Although many of the angels of the Dynamim had moved into the silver city, in particular into the newly created library of fate, their numbers still lingered in the twisted ripples of energy that lingered at the edge of known reality. Desindieus in particular kept to themselves there, working on what was being deemed their greatest work. It was to be a relic of incredible power that would give Heaven needed insight into its ultimate destiny and fate. Perhaps the paranoia stemmed from something they had come across while working on their project?

It was always a possible given that many dynamim began to crack under their own visions and fall to madness and given Desindeius’s advanced age, that was always a risk day after day. 

Magtherius slowed his speed as he drew closer to the edge of reality, slowly starting to descend. The silver city ended rather abruptly in a series of gates and spires before it opened into sky peppered with floating hunks of earth and lancing bolts of arcane energy that filled the air. Beyond it lay the shimmer of clouds with a dark purple hue to them as if a brewing storm was building eternally on the horizon. Beyond that wall of black clouds lay a sea of energy, another realm that seemed to be a reservoir for raw power that lay between Heaven and Hell, much like Pandemonium. 

That unnamed realm though held no life of its own, more akin to a supercharged sea of energy that would destroy any unwise to channel too much of its endless power through them.

The Dynamim angels though were rather content to live close to the place as the ripple of energy caused distortions in time and space, allowing clearer glimpses into what could come and the possibilities of the future. 

It was also why it was said so many went mad. 

Magtherius carefully moved to land in front of the Sanctity of Destiny, casting a glance about before entering. It was a bizarre structure, nothing more than a large dome with an assortment of weird moving devices all along the side and observatory towers. The study here though was not of stars like what Magtherius used his own for, but of realities and futures. The scholars here were silent and focused, barely any sparing him a glance as he reached out with his resonance to try and locate the archangel of destiny. 

He was forced to a halt though as the familiar figure of Desindiues’s attendant floated towards him, hands folded within their robes, “Lord Magtherius, it is an honor for you to come. May we infer to why you have visited us?”

The voice was flat and emotionless sounding, typical of the practical Dynamim, but their resonance conveyed the warmth of their greeting well enough. 

“Ah, Yousrel,” Magtherius greeted, “I was hoping ot speak with Desindieus-”

“The archangel of destiny will see no one. They have locked themselves away and speak little if at all,” Yousrel interrupted, their resonance trembling with concern, “We have not seen them in two weeks. The work on Talus’ar has faltered. We are unable to see cause or reason for all of this in any of the ripples.”

Maghterius gave a nod, wings tensing, “That is troubling.” he murmured, “And makes me all the more anxious to speak with them. Their behavior has been concerning and as their king and the leader of the council, I cannot turn a blind eye to it. We are all worried.”

“Yes, but they will not see anyone,” Yousrel said with a dip of their head.

“Well, maybe if it is I that is calling upon them, they can spare a moment,” Magtherius said, wings flicking out.

“Maybe. We hope at least,” The attendant floated aside, a hand gesturing to the large ornate doors at the far end of the room, “I hope you have success in convincing them to return. We miss their council.” 

The archangel of virtue gave a small nod, clasping his hands behind his back as he started towards the doors, “Me as well.”

Magtherius expected something of a fight from Desindieus as the archangel of destiny could be very stubborn if they wished and given their current mood, honestly, he half expected to be turned away. Instead, the door cracked open as he drew closer as if already anticipating his arrival. The familiar form of Desindeius peered through, their form more a broken chain of limbs about a central trunk, humming with more exposed raw energy than what was common for most angels. They eyed Magtherius quietly before daring to open the door a sliver more to admit the archangel of virtue access to their inner sanctum.

“Come in alone or not at all. I will only speak with you, quickly, and be done with it,” Desindeius hissed, “I cannot be bothered, not now! Not when everything, everything is so broken!”

The archangel of virtue did not ask questions just yet of the other angel, only slipping in quickly as instructed. The door shut and locked behind him and then Desindeius was quickly floating back to the center of their own study, looming over a long glowing scroll laid out before them. 

“So what is it you’ve come to bother me about?” the archangel of destiny grumbled, wings pulled tight to their back, “I am busy. So very busy!”

“Your lack of participation in the council. Your sudden withdrawal from Heaven. Your temper in particular is not like you,” Magtherius said softly, “I come to ask if something is the matter?”

“Is something the matter? Of course something is the matter!” Desindeius snapped, pulling away from the scroll and starting to float about the room in agitation, pulling out books and crystals, pausing a moment to look at them before tossing them to the ground, “Everything is going wrong, Magtherius, can’t you feel it? Can’t you see it? We are undone!” 

“What are you talking about?” Magtherius said, wings flaring, “I know you speak cryptically at times, old friend, but-”

“But what? I don’t make sense now?” The archangel of destiny interjected, their voice rising in pitch and becoming almost hysteric, “You have not seen it!”

“Seen what!?” Magtherius snapped, “Is this related to Talus’ar? What is it you see? I am not a seer, I do not have your vision!”

Desindeius jerked to a halt, their entire form shuddering before they took a labored breath, slowly floating downwards and back to the scroll, leaning over it once more, “No. No this is not related to Talus’ar. What is being recorded to it...I have not looked at it,” they paused form trembling more, “maybe I never shall.”

Magtherius felt the worry grow in his resonance as he came up beside the archangel, resting a hand on their shoulder, “Desindeius. Speak to me. We have always been able to talk.”

“We have, but I do not know what to say,” the archangel of destiny took another deep breath, hands clenching at the edge of the table, “My vision of late has been clouded with darkness. There is pain and death, of storms. I see Heaven starting to crumble away wherever I walk, as if it disintegrates away. I hear lies. So many lies,” the archangel of destiny shook their head, “I believe, I believe I can no longer serve on the council. Not when I no longer at times can keep my own thoughts in line.” 

“If you need a break-”

“No! I do not need one! I am! I am!” Desindeius jerked away, shaking their head, “I am...sorry. It is, just difficult. Perhaps my age is starting to catch up with me at last.”

A sigh escaped them, the floating wings behind them sagging lower and lower as their form started to sink to the floor, “There is a darkness in our ranks,” they said softly, “I know for certain, someone among us will be the unraveling of Heaven. They have already begun.”

The words caused ice to settle in Magtherius’s core as his wings pulled against his back, “Do you know who?”

“I...I do not. My visions are cloudy. I know only it is one of those we trust. If they are on the council or in the lower council, I am not sure, but I have a feeling of familiarity as I look upon their silhouette and listen to the whispers of their voice,” Disendeius glanced up, “I have been locking myself away here, pushing myself to the limits to try and make the vision clearer, to see what destiny is attempting to weave and pull the strings to unravel it so that some new path can be found. There is always more than one path ahead.”

Magtherius moved to sit beside the other archangel on the floor, unable to shake the concern growing more so in his soul, “Is that why you have been away?”

“Yes. And why my mood has changed,” the archangel of destiny murmured, “In trying to see that fate, I have seen others. There is something coming Magtherius, something that we cannot fathom. I can feel it. A thousand new lives, a conflict to come, burning and death...it is too much to see. Too much to live.”

The archangel of virtue moved to wrap an arm about Disendeius, pulling them against his side, “Then do not worry about it now. Rest. Focus on your work and take comfort there. I will personally look into unveiling this threat. Do not push yourself further,” He gave a squeeze to their shoulder, “The council would be less for the loss of your wisdom.”

Disendeius let out a tired chuckle, glancing towards the much larger angel, “If you saw what I saw, you would not be so calm.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Maghterius agreed, “But we cannot afford to lose our wits when we need it the most.”

He paused, glancing their way, “Is there anything you can tell me for certain about this deceiver in our midst?”

“Like I said, they are in a position where they are know to us. From the silhouette, perhaps Seraphim, or of Seraphim blood? But that is ...rather meaningless given how many angels now are of the Serpahim ilk,” they murmured, “And so many are on the lower council and even the upper one.” 

“Not much to work on, but I would rather just that little bit for now than to worry further about it,” he murmured with a shake of his head.

He began to rise to his feet, gently pulling Disendeius up with him, “Return to your work and to your scholars. They are worried for you as much as I. I will excuse you this week of meetings just to get yourself in order.” he said gently.

“Thank you,” they glanced over at the scroll, wings flickering, “Maybe...maybe returning to my work will put my mind at ease. In Talus’ar, when completed, Heaven’s fate will be revealed. Every step in the path of the future marked. It will be an invaluable artifact in the conflict.”

“And I hope you will be the one to guide its reading.” 

“Maybe,” Disendeius chuckled, “Especially as for now, I am the only one able to decipher its meaning but who knows? Perhaps one of the fledglings will show aptitude for it. We have a few potential dynamim resonance fledglings already being monitored as potentials.”

“Any in particular seem to stand apart yet?” Magtherius asked, guiding the conversation there in an effort to help ease Disendius’s mind.

The archangel of destiny’s wings flicked some as they floated over to the scroll, “Actually yes. A surprising one in that,” they murmured, “One of our scholars took up a love outside the dynamim and produced a duet fledgling. Nothing too remarkable and really, they were not even considered at first, but...” Disendeius glanced over their shoulder at Magtherius, “I recently heard of their exceptional performance on rune translation tests that are two grades above where they should be and have added them to my watch. Itherael I believe their name is.”

Disendieus raised a hand to rub their chin, “A lot of potential. A lot of potential.” 

“Ah! I know the fledglings. He is one of the friends of my ward,” Magtherius said, wings flicking out, “Very intelligent if a bit ah, flighty and nervous.”

“Fear is the sense of caution we gain when looking into the future and keeping in check the power we hold in having that knowledge,” Disendieus chided softly, “And they are still young and again, only monitoring for now. We will see if they continue to stand apart.”

Magtherius gave a nod, clasping his hands behind his back, “...will you be all right?”

“As all right as I can,” Disendeius murmured, “It will take time to recover, to force myself to let go of these visions but I will...try. Perhaps a break will help me to focus my vision more and clarify who it is that sows the dissonance in Heaven.”

The archangel of virtue gave a nod, “If you feel like you may break, seek out your scholars or myself. I would rather you speak with us than to lock yourself away,” he said softly.

“I will take your council to my core,” Disendeius said softly, “Thank you for coming and I...apologize for my behavior. I suppose I let myself get overwhelmed with trying to stop this.”

“Let us work together to stop it. The burden shared is easier to combat,” Magtherius said, tone light, “We stand together.”

“We stand together,” Disendeius murmured before straightening, wings lifting, “Yes, yes you are right. We stand together.”

The archangel of destiny’s resonance lifted a bit as they nodded, starting to move about the room, picking up the mess, “I will leave it to you then to figure out this mystery and will offer my help when I can.” 

“I will get to the bottom of this, I swear it,” Magtherius said with a nod. 

“I hope you do. I wish I could say you do for certain,” they responded. They paused for a moment though, wings flicking before they looked towards the door, “But ah, what I do know is that you will not be getting the best of news in a moment.”

“What do you-”

There was a sudden flurry of knocks on the door and through it, Magtherius heard a muffled call of his name. He sighed, shoulders slumping, “Ah. That sort of news.”

“Small emergencies, at least, are something I can assure you’ll always have,” Disendeius said, a hint of their usually dry humor back in their voice. 

“That you can,” Magtherius sighed, “Take care Disendeius and again-”

“I will come see you if I get in over my head again,” they promised, “Go attend your ward.”

“My-” Magtherius jolted, looking between the archangel of destiny and the knocking at the door before he quickly went to it and stepping out. 

A frazzled angel stood before him, their wings twisting into anxious knots, practically jumping from foot to foot as they looked up at the large archangel, “Ah! Lord Magtherius! You are here!” The courier gushed, looking relieved, “I’ve been sent by the headmaster. There has been a rather serious incident at the school concerning your-”

Magtherius didn’t bother to stay and wait for the rest of the message, already leaping forward and all but rocketing forward out of the sanctity of Destiny. All his thoughts were on the school and what could have happened. 

They never sent a courier unless it was a major incident. The headmaster often simply waited for Magtherius to arrive at the end of the day to trade words rather than interrupt the business of the king of Heaven.

Magtherius landed heavily in the courtyard, the headmaster already there and was quick to move up beside the archangel, their irritation clear in their voice, “Your ward attacked another angel today! Doing harm might I add! Clawed up a classmate’s arm-”

“Where is he now?”

The headmaster bit back their retort, wings rising in agitation before looking away with a huff, “In Nurathiel’s classroom with Auriel.” they growled out, “But Lord Magtherius, I really think-”

“Your opinion will be considered at later date,” Magtherius snapped, “When I have heard all sides of the incident and not just you telling me what to do with my ward.” 

The headmaster flinched and stepped back with a bow of their head, “Of course my lord. I didn’t mean to be forceful.”

Magtherius didn’t spare them another glance as he entered into the school. The halls were cleared of other angels but the remnants of the tantrum remained. There was a sprinkle of blood on the floor and some of the cubicles on the walls used to store items were torn down and splintered into pieces. Magtherius couldn’t help the wince at the broken windows no doubt from a shriek and the claw marks on the floor.

All the tell-tale signs of Malthael having a bad tantrum.

He entered into the classroom and felt sorrow in his resonance at the sight. Malthael was curled up in the corner, head buried against his knees and wings about himself. Auriel was sitting next to him, both her arms and wings about him, patting his back. When Magtherius entered, she tense, letting out a low hiss.

“If you are coming in to yell at him again, just get out!” She snapped, “Falerin was at fault! He was goading him and being a huge bastard and if anyone wants to yell at Malthael for defending himself, go talk to Imperius! He’ll set you straight! Just like he did when he punched that stupid headmaster!”

Magtherius winced. Of course Imperius would do that. The fiery fledgling had all Tyranius’s tact about dealing with people that weren’t listening to him and now that he was taller, he seemed to have gotten even more fight in his soul. No doubt a by product of his true sire’s nature. 

“I’m not here to yell at him Auriel,” the archangel of virtue said as he drew close, “When have I ever yelled at him?”

She eyed him for a moment before she huffed, her posture relaxing, “…he really didn’t mean it.”

“I know.”

“The others were being cruel and no one was doing anything,”

“They think I’m a freak,” Malthael said softly, “They said I was made wrong.”

Magtherius sighed, moving to sit down beside Malthael, pulling both fledglings against him, “They clearly need to be educated better by their parents if they are spreading such lies.”

“That’s what I said,” Auriel grumbled, “My parents don’t teach me stupid things like that. Why are some parents so dumb?”

“Because they think they know what is right and wrong,” Magtherius let out a soft sigh, “I’m sorry you had to go through that today Malthael. I’m sure you’ll have to serve a small punishment as someone got hurt-”

“I know. I always do. I always hurt someone and get punished,” Malthael growled, hands curling against his knees, “I just wish...I just wish I didn’t do anything! But I get so angry and...and just...I want to hurt them. Something in me just wants to hurt them as much as they hurt me!”

Magtherius felt a slight twinge at the words.

It was something a demon acted on. The passions and desires to hurt others was always born of some hurt committed. For a demon, violence was the only solution, the only way to pay back in blood what was taken. Such a thing was not a common reaction of angels.

It served as a grim reminder of what made up the core of his ward’s soul. That though did not define all that Malthael was.

Magtherius reached to give a small squeeze to his ward’s shoulder, looking down at the trembling angel.

“You have a choice to make in that moment. A choice all your own,” he said softly, “You can hurt them, or you cannot. Just remember, you are in control Malthael. You are always in control, even if the situation seems beyond it. You are always in control of yourself.”

His ward nodded, leaning against his side, Auriel wiggling to snuggle up against Malthael, one of her tiny hands moving to pet over the dark angels head. The action seemed to relax Malthael some as he let out a sigh, glancing away, “I know, just sometimes it is hard to do the right thing… sometimes its hard to think.”

“That it is,” Magtherius said with a chuckle, “That is why we got to always embrace a challenge, even if it seems impossible. Trust in our own strength to see us through.”

“And don’t give up ever!” Auriel added, "One day we will all graduate and then we’ll be changing Heaven and then no one else will get bullied like you, right?”

Malthael gave a nod, wings flicking, “Yeah...when I am a big angel, I’m going to get on the council and make it that angels like me aren’t going to be just shoved aside anymore and called names. I’m going to make everyone be treated fairly!”

Magtherius soul rose in slight happiness at those words. He patted Malthael’s back lightly, “See? You know what is right. You know it better than anyone.”

“I just need to do good more often,” Malthael grumbled, shoulders slumping, “...I’m sorry I hit him.”

“You shouldn’t be apologizing to me Malthael,” Magtherius chided, “You need to apologize to the fledgling you hit. And their parents.”

Malthael let out a whine, “Why? They won’t accept it!”

“Doesn’t matter. You still need to be the bigger angel and extend the laurel of peace,” The archangel of virtue said, rising to his feet, “After all-”

“Lord Magtherius!” 

The archangel of viture had to hold back an exasperated sigh as he heard the shrill cry of his name echoing out from another courier, this one wearing the livery of Tyranius’s host. He glanced over his shoulder to the angel in the doorway who dropped him a hasty bow, “Lord Magtherius! We have a dire emergency!”

“Then out with it and waste not my time,” the archangel of virtue responded, unable to keep the slight exasperation out of his voice. 

He was aware of Malthael drawing closer to him, clutching onto one of his wing tendrils and all but wrapping himself in it, something most fledglings did as a means to comfort themselves. The courier jolted before throwing a quick salute, “Oh! Y-yes sir!”

They cleared their throat quickly before ducking their head, “The archfiend, the mother of delirium herself, has declared truce to speak to with you at the meeting stones.” 

Magtherius’s wings flared, nearly yanking Malthael up off the floor as he did so and earning a giggle from Auriel, “What? Are you sure?”

“Tyranius herself dispatched me to relay this. Amonaith has called for a meeting of the stones.”

The archangel of virtue felt a surge of unease rush through him. The queen of Hell was rare to want to speak to anyone, even the lords of her own court. Even rarer was it that she wished to call for a meeting of the stones and to speak with any of Heaven but when she did, she always made a point to speak to none but himself. The queen of Hell had her pride and her royal lineage, a direct product of Tiamath’s dark soul, would speak to none but another monarch. 

“Then we need to leave with haste then-”

“I can take you there immediately my lord!” 

“No, no that is not-”

The couriers of Tyranius, more so than any other host, were more over eager to get their task settled and taken care of, often times to the great displeasure of the archangel of virtue. He had barely managed a protest before the courier, had a hand upon his shoulder, teleporting them both away and to the ramparts at the very edge of Heaven’s holdings that overlooked the wild lands of Pandemonium. Magtherius stumbled as he appeared, never use to the sudden teleportation the exsertium seemed to favor and very aware of the squeak of his fledgling who had clung onto him as they shifted.

The archangel of virtue’s wings pulled tight to his back as he reared up some at the courier in a rare display of temper, “You could not give me a mere second to tend to my ward properly, could you?”

The courier winced, drawing back, ready to bumble out an apology only to be interrupted from a familiar, irritated voice that came from behind the archangel of virtue.

“there is not time to spare Magtherius,” the familiar voice of Tyranius drawled, “I would not have sent one of my couriers with such urgency if the she-bitch was not raising all of Hell it seems with her screeches to see you.”

The archangel of virtue turned towards Tyranius as one of his hands fell onto Malthael’s shoulder to make sure the fledgling kept close. Already he could see his ward starting to peek around, wings lifted curiously, “Yes, but this is no place to bring a child and haste or not, I could have been given a moment to tend to him.”

“Then it seems you and the hell-bitch have something in common today in bringing your spawn,” Tyranius growled, crossing her arms, “Can you just see what she wants and have her gone before I go down and fight the bitch myself? I am not in the mood to deal with her howling and I have shown more than a little restraint in honoring the ancient laws between our two people.” 

Magtherius sighed in frustration before tightening his grip on Malthael’s shoulder to guide his ward along beside him and to keep him from wandering away from him with such a dangerous enemy nearby, “I will keep it short then.”

At the very least, having his ward there would hasten Magtherius to deal with the she-demon if only to send her crawling back into the foul pits she laired in. No doubt the reason Tyranius even now was giving him no room to tend to his ward was preying upon his concerns for the younger angel and keeping him out of harm’s way. However, Magtherius couldn’t help the slight tension in his shoulders as he muled over Tyranius’s comment about Amonaith having brought an imp with her. The fact she had one at all was...new. Typically Amonaith devoured her offspring shortly after birth finding them all disappointing and weak. This was often followed by her devouring the poor foolish demon that had thought to become mates with her. 

It was troubling but curious news.

Magtherius made his way along the ramparts, ascending a flight of stairs that opened up to a balcony that overlooked a low sitting, dilapidated structure far below.

The meeting stones were an ancient place, carved out by the ancestors of Heaven and Hell long, long ago, before angel and demon had realized the nature of their own creation. It was meant as a place where the conflict was forbidden to take place and for brief treaties to be established and territory claimed. The ancient structure was barely anything more than a crudely dug out amphitheater with a wide open floor, a ring of standing stones rising up around it, each baring ancient, long-forgotten symbols of leaders long forgotten. It was those large stones that had given rise to the phrase of ‘casting stones’ when it came to talks meant to deescalate any sort of conflict. 

Looking down upon the place though filled Magtherius’s soul with apprehension as he caught sight of the demon that all of Heaven feared most of all. 

Amonaith was a monstrous demon to gaze upon. Her form was far larger than any demon ever recorded, thin, but with corded muscles along every inch of her form. She had several long tails, more like tentacles that squirmed about eagerly, each one ending in a deadly barb that carried a toxin that would fell even the mightiest of angels were it not treated quickly. Each one was grimly decorated with the armor of slain angels she had collected and preserved as sick trophies. 

Her head seemed too large and heavy for the rest of her, a massive crown of horns sprouting up in every direction, part of them growing down over the eye on the left. The right side was made up of several eyes, stretching down to a gaping maw, one of several that were torn open about her head. 

Her coloration was odd among demons and some attributed the white, almost holy glow of her body to the fact she had devoured so many angel souls, they had infused her bones with their light, creating the glow from within. She was both horrific and beautiful. Elegant and chaotic. A terrifying demon that held herself currently with an almost mother-like gentleness as she nuzzled and nipped at a demon imp clinging to her back. 

The child bore some semblance to its foul mother in terms of the horns, but seemed far more skeletal, as if emaciated. It clung to its mother back through the use of four arms and in place of legs, had only a slender twitching tail resembling more a spine. A ghoulish, permanent grin was seated in place and the wide eyes of the child were fixed upwards on the angel with a careful curiosity. 

Magtherius moved away from Malthael then, although, one tendril of his wings kept contact with his ward. The king of heaven leaned forward against the ramparts, raising his voice to be heard by the demon queen below, “I’ve come to answer your request, Amonaith. What is you wish to call for in this meeting?”

“I would call for there to be less shouting as you come down here and speak to me directly, oh lord of Heaven,” the demon queen sneered, “I have come without attendants and even with my own offspring to show that I do not intend trouble.”

“You have devoured your children in the past. The gesture means little,” Magtherius retorted, “Let me hear your request before I make a decision to speak with you further.”

The mother of delirium bared her teeth in the frontal mouths, the others opening and closing to gnash teeth. The offpsring on her back watched her reaction before mimicking it, hissing loudly with its own small bit of anger. Her tails, long and whip-like, studded with spines and decorated with the broken armor of angels clanged against the ground loudly. 

“I wish to speak to you! That alone is worthy enough of a casting of stones as listening to your voice is enough to make me want to rip into all of Heaven and devour your kin in the hundreds!” She roared back, rearing up to stand on her back two legs, “I am the queen of Hell! When I speak, all of it trembles and bows to my whim and you dare to treat me as if you cannot be bothered to meet with me! I do not need reason, I call for stones to be cast and they will either be casted, Magtherius, or I will be at your gates tomorrow with my legions!” 

Magtherius didn’t flinch, staring down into the furious eyes of the she demon, “You are the queen of Hell and it is out of respect for your power I do not throw myself before you, knowing your mood changes quickly with a whim.”

His words did not appease Amonaith, her jaws hung open, a howling roar building up in her throat, however, as quickly as it was about to start, it began to fade, her head tilting and then her teeth snapped together in a leering smile. A wariness settled over Matherius as the anger of her mood changed suddenly to amusement, something that was never good when dealing with the mad queen of Hell. 

Amonaith settled herself back on her haunches, head cocking back and forth as her eyes rolled about, before settling not on Magtherius but on the spot beside him, all of her wretched mouths now pulled up in twisted smiles, “Oh...I did not realize you had brought a little one!” 

Magtherius felt his core go cold, glancing to his right where Malthael had peaked over the ramparts, no doubt driven by a curiosity to see what was going on. Of course the she-demon had seen him and of course, she was smart enough to put two and two together. Her tails began to ease, only twitching some against the stone as she settled back on her haunches for a moment before lowering herself lower in a sign of appeasement. 

She was careful to tilt her head, exposing her neck in a sign of submission and as a means to show she was not here to cause harm, a gesture the imp on her back watched and mimic, bearing his tiny teeth, “I will agree to speak with you on your own turf, surrounded by your angelic host to speak, if that puts you at ease, King Magtherius,” The she-demon cooed, “On the condition that my offspring is placed with your own. Little children should not be privy to such large meetings after all!”

Magtherius’s felt his form tense and his first reaction was to tell Amonaith to damn herself right back to Hell. To put Malthael in any space with as vicious a demon imp as Amonaith’s spawn probably was, was to invite trouble.

This declaration though was far larger than his concerns for his ward. Larger even than any proposal the queen of hell had put forth before.

She had made a second attempt at appeasement, a rarity for her and more than likely, to refuse her was to invite a war upon them. If her demands were met though, there was a chance that perhaps some sort of peace could be worked out. 

It was a decision that did not sit well with Magtherius, but one that needed to be made. 

The archangel of virtue looked down to Malthael. The fledgling glanced up at him, his wings flicking dismissively before he looked back down to where the demon queen sat waiting with her imp on her back,“I’ll play with the demon imp,” the fledgling finally said, “It looks sick and weak anyways.”

“Demons are deceptive in appearance. Strength can never be determined by their forms,” Magtherius murmured, “It could be dangerous.”

“It is just one little demon and me….” Malthael huffed, “I can take care of myself!”

The archangel of virtue looked down to his fledgling, his ward. Nothing about this sat right with him and he wondered what Amonaith was even thinking. It was hard to tell if she was having a moment of cunning thought or if she was merely acting on impulse and some strange desire to see her only living imp play with an angel fledgling.

Neither one was out of the ordinary for the mad queen of Hell given her whims were unpredictable and made only sense in her own mind. 

Magtherius could feel Tyranius’s gaze boring into his back as he turned back to the ramparts, meeting the narrowed eyed, impatient gaze of Amonaith. 

“Very well.” He said at length, “But there will be a guard posted and neither shall come to any harm or blows, is that clear?” 

The demon queen grinned, rising up to pad forward on all of her limbs, more like a beast, head half turned to the little demon scowling on her back, “My little Mephisto will do as I say. He is a good imp or mama will no longer give him love.”

Mephisto gave a small nod, wisely moving to duck about some of the spines on her back to avoid being in range of her many teeth. The demon imp at least was smart enough to know that its mother’s attention was terribly unpredictable. Perhaps that was the sole reason Mephisto had survived past infancy. Magtherius gave a flick of his wings, pulling reluctantly away from the ramparts and towards Tyranius. 

“Get your troops in place. Take advantage of the situation to put her on edge all you want and...prepare a tent for the children.” Magtherius said. 

Tyranius gave a nod, glancing at Magtherius before shaking her head, “As ever, I think you are completely out of your mind, but I’ll see it done.”

The powerful archangel of victory took to wing to pass the orders along as Magtherius crouched down, putting a hand on Malthael’s shoulder, “...do not fight with the demon imp. I do not doubt you can take care of yourself but demon imps….demon imps are physically more able than a fledgling with barely a hint of armor formed.”

“I’ll be fine,” Malthael huffed, “I won’t pick a fight with it. I’m...curious to see what an imp is like. Imperius has spoken so much about them. I thought they were chubby things.”

Magtherius let out a strained laugh, “...some are. Some are….just….just be careful.”

Malthael looked up at Magtherius, his wings flicking out and for the life of him, couldn’t seem to understand why his caretaker seemed to worried. It was not the first time angel fledglings and demon imps had played, as far as he was concerned. 

There was no fear yet, no caution yet learned through experience about the temperament of demons.

All Malthael knew was things were strange. His mentor was tense as he was taken to a tent that had been set up. Inside, there were was not much save tables and chairs, and a rug thrown over the stone floor to make it a bit more comfortable Malthael supposed. 

They tiny fledgling huffed, moving to the table and sliding up into a chair as his caregiver hurried away, his body language speaking of worry and tension no doubt related to whatever it was adult angels loved to concern themselves with. Malthael though only felt a slight irritation as he looked about the tent that had been set up. If they expected him to play with the demon, they didn’t really give much. Thankfully though, he had his school bag at his side and carefully Malthael reached into it, pushing aside the heavy textbooks on history and poetry to grasp onto the small tin below. 

Free-time had grown away from frolics and playing for Malthael and as he got older, his interests went more towards strategy games, more importantly the game known as Kings and Paupers. The game was simple enough. It was two players, each one having in their possession twenty-five pieces that moved in different ways across the board, one gold, one white traditionally. Malthael’s own set was silver and black, a gift to him by one of the few teachers that had taken a shine to him enough to teach him the game and encourage him to keep playing.

Malthael though knew he was still not good enough and thus was diligently practicing in his free-time to know the game.

If the demon imp proved to be annoying, he could at least just play away the time by himself and ignore the inane chatter it might spill forth. After all, Imperius had said most imps couldn’t talk and were loud, wailing little things. 

The young fledgling had just finished setting up the pieces and was set about to play a practice game by himself when the flap of the tent was pulled back and the demon imp came skulking in. Mephisto was larger up close, but no less bony. The way in which he moved was strange given he had no back legs, balancing his weight forward on his hands most of the time, but managing something of a levitation for short bursts forward. 

The imp was leering at Malthael, not saying a word at first and content, it seemed, to pace about the room, watching the fledgling warily. Malthael spared only a glance over, hand hovering over one of the pieces on the board before letting out a huff and turning back to the game he laid out, starting to move the pieces about. 

Mephisto settled in a corner, growling softly, although the sound was rather high-pitched and a tad squeaky. Nothing all that scary like what Malthael had been told. He kept the demon in sight though out of the corner of his eye, especially when the imp slowly began to approach after a few moments like a stalkign predator. 

Soon the skeletal, sickly looking creature was at the edge of the table, peering just over the ledge and watching Malthael moved the pieces about, the spine-like tail flicking out behind him. 

“….what are you doing?” 

The question caused Malthael to look up in mild surprise by how clearly the demon formed his words. The fledgling was silent for a moment before his gaze returned down to the board laid out before him, “Playing a game.”

“By yourself?”

Malthael shrugged, “Practicing for when I can play it against someone.” 

The demon’s tail flicked before it moved to climb up to the other chair, looking over the pieces before snatching one up and putting it in a new spot, “This seems like an easy game.” 

“You moved the piece wrong,” Malthael drawled, moving to take the piece and put it back, “The vanguard can only move in straight lines. The bishops move in diagonals.”

Mephisto’s eyes narrowed and he let out another tiny growl, but this time took the piece and moved it straight, “Do all the pieces have limited movement?”

“All but the archangel pieces,” Malthael said picking up one of his pieces and moving to take the one Mephisto just moved, “They move freely, but can only take pieces in certain situations. Like what I did there. You made a silly move.”

The demon hissed, crouching forward, “So it is a battle game. So stupid! Why play a game like this if you can fight?” 

The fledgling paused wings flicking as he looked up at the demon imp. For his scoffing words, Mephisto was still leaned forward, looking over the pieces curiously, although he was trying to hide it. Malthael looked back down at the board before slowly moving to set the pieces back to start, “Do you want to learn to play?”

The imp tensed, tail flicking about before letting out a huff and settling into the chair, mimicking Malthael’s posture, “I guess. Nothing else to do,” Mephisto growled, trying to sound disinterested and not too keen, but unable to hide the excited trill at finding something clearly that interested him, “Teach me your silly game.”

Malthael huffed but did not retort. There seemed little reason to argue with the demon. Mephisto seemed very content to make his feelings known and act as if his opinion was the only one that mattered. He expected the imp to give up quickly.

What the fledgling hadn’t expected was for Mephisto to be a quick learner and soon starting to put together strategies to play the game. Of course his play style was still that of a beginner, but Malthael found himself needing to put more thought into the moves he made and perhaps found himself enjoying the challenge. 

However even that didn’t seem to particular make Mephisto stop making his opinions known. 

“This game is not fair!” Mephisto growled, “You keep winning!” 

“You just learned to play. You can’t be good at everything right away,” Malthael drawled, “And I’m not going to let you just win.”

Mephisto glanced up, glowering at the fledgling before looking down at the board, digging claws against the wood, “I really hate you,” he spat.

Malthael just cocked his head, the words meaning little to him, especially when he had heard that said before from other fledglings, “Why? Don’t you need a reason to hate someone?”

Mephisto huffed, tail flicking about in agitation, “I just hate you! You act like you are superior to me when you are not! When I learn this game better, I’ll be the one to look down on you!” 

“I don’t think I’m superior to you. I just played it longer,” Malthael grumbled, moving one of his pieces moodily, “And you play better than any of my friends. I actually am trying really hard to make sure I don’t lose!” 

The demon imped hissed, baring his teeth, “Liar.”

“I don’t lie!” Malthael retorted back moving his piece in aggressively to take one of Mephisto’s archangels, “Telling fibs is stupid. You really are good and I bet you’ll get good at this and then you’ll beat me fair and square!”

“And then I’ll be superior!” 

“Whatever! I really don’t care,” Malthael growled, moving his piece again to capture Mephisto’s king, “It is just a game. If you win, I’ll just congratulate you on the win and then hope you’ll keep playing.”

Mephisto was staring at Malthael, eyes narrowed and the expression unreadable. The demon imp looked down at the game silently before starting to move his pieces back to set up another game, “So you just play this game for...fun? Not for….survival or rank?”

“Yes,” Malthael said in exasperation, “For fun. Master says it is a game to help people learn about one another. Many talk about silly things while playing...”

The demon imp stared at Malthael and then back down at the board, picking up one of the pieces and turning it about in his clawed hands, “So it is just….fun to talk and play and not win?”

“Losing isn’t a shame,” Malthael grumbled, “It is...irritating, but you can always win the next game. Why is that so strange?”

Mephisto didn’t answer the question, fiddling with the piece a bit more before glancing up, “I don’t hate you.” 

“Oh.” Malthael said, giving a shrug, “That’s...good I guess.” 

The imp’s gaze fell back down to the piece, “I like this playing thing with you. I like the fun.” the imp began slowly, “I like talking to you I think.” 

“You’re weird,” Malthael huffed.

Mephisto bared his teeth in a demon version of a grin, “You’re weirder.” 

“You’re the weirdest,” Malthael retorted, not missing a beat. 

“You’re the weirdest-est!” Mephisto declared, letting lose something that might have been a giggle. 

The sound had Malthael huffing, making his first move, “Are you going to play or just keep making up words?”

Mephisto let out that strange noise before moving his piece again. The conversation lulled then, but occasionally there were small bursts of small talk, tiny questions that were harmless from both. Malthael found himself rather at ease around the demon and wondered why the older angels always seemed so wary of them. 

Really, Mephisto treated him better than many angels did. He didn’t say anything about his lack of resonance or how he seemed different. In fact, the insults thrown were fine in Malthael’s book as they were logical things, like an angry retort to a comment made or frustration over a move that cost him a game. 

It was surprisingly easy to speak to Mephisto and Malthael found himself disappointed when the tent flap was pulled aside and Magtherius stepped in. The archangel of virtue seemed a bit taken aback by how peaceful the two were being and cleared his throat loudly, warily looking to the demon imp, “Mephisto, your mother is leaving.”

The demon imp looked up, tail moving about before he looked at the game, glaring at the pieces. Silently he began to draw away from the table, his gaze lingering on the game with a passing look of longing before he finally tore his eyes away. Malthael glanced to Mephisto and then back to the game, fidgeting in his seat as the demon imp slunk towards the door.

“Wait!” 

The demon imp paused in the doorway, looking back at Malthael with a scowl as the fledgling hurriedly pushed all the pieces back into the tin and slipped the folded board in on top. Quickly Malthael moved over, holding the tin out to the demon imp, wings giving a nervous flutter, “You can have it.”

“...have it?” Mephisto echoed, reaching to take it, eyes narrowed, “….but what do you want in return?”

“Nothing. Its a gift,” Malthael huffed, “And….and you can have more fun in Hell if you take it and play with it. Then you can get really good next time we play.”

Mephisto was hesitant to take the gift, eyeing Malthael the whole time as if expecting him to suddenly give some terms for the gift. When none came, the demon tucked the gift in close, something akin to a small smile on his maw, “I’ll beat you next time we play.”

“I look forward to seeing if you can.”

The demon flashed a grin, tails twitching eagerly and there was a light in its eyes that wasn’t malicious. It was an excited little spark, a genuine delight as he darted away no doubt to eagerly share his spoils with his mother. 

Malthael shuffled about, aware that his master was staring at him, “What?”

“...that was very kind of you Malthael.”

Really, Magtherius had never seen his fledgling do such a thing for anyone outside his small circle of friends. Malthael just huffed, scuffing his foot against the ground, “You told me to be nice so I was nice,” he grumbled, “Now can we go home? I got homework and teacher Galendal is looking for any reason to fail me in poetry.”

Magtherius sighed as he picked Malthael up, stepping outside the tent. He spared a glance past the ramparts, watching Amonraith retreat towards Hell. The demon imp sat on her back facing them, the tin clutched to his chest. A tiny clawed hand was raised in a show of farewell, one that Malthael returned. 

It was a reminder to Magtherius of how the youth always seemed to find it easier to breach the barriers between them and find their own peace. A talent that slowly bled out as they got older and began to understand the world and their desires began to shift. 

The archangel of virtue gave a shake of his head before quickly taking to wing, heading back towards the shining pinnacle of Heaven. Malthael shifted in his arms, looking down warily. He wasn’t yet old enough for long flights or ones that were this terribly high up just yet.

“Did your meeting thing go well?”

“It went well, I suppose,” Magtherius murmured, “There was...progress.”

Malthael nodded, “Will she come back with Mephisto?”

“Maybe.”

Again, the fledgling nodded silently. He fidgeted some before glancing up at Magtherius, “Can I play with Mephisto again if she comes with him?”

Magtherius felt a seed of worry and weariness in his chest but hesitatingly gave a nod, “I will see if that can be arranged but circumstances do always change.” 

“That’s fine. I can wait,” Malthael said with a firm nod, “You always did say be patient.” 

The archangel of virtue gave a nod, falling silent. 

It was complicated thing but no doubt it was something that Malthael would grow out of. All fledglings tended to grow out of their curiosity for Hell as it was cemented more and more the nature of demons. Still, if the friendship continued…

maybe there would be a chance for peace in the future. 

“I will do what I can. It is important to have many friends after all,” Magtherius murmured, “The friendship can’t hurt, as long as the two of you keep it going.”

“I like Mephisto. He’s not stupid like some fledglings,” Malthael grumbled, “Even if he is kind of annoying and loud. But so is Imperius and I like him too. At least Mephisto isn’t dumb.” 

Magtherius chuckled, “Now now, Malthael, don’t be mean.”

The fledgling just huffed, going silent squirming about to get comfortable. 

Magtherius chuckled, forcing down that small bit of worry that still gnawed at him. 

This would be a good thing. It would lead to peace. It would be no different than his own friendship with a few demons at the edge of Hell. 

It would bring about balance.

At least he hoped so.

The grim warnings of the archangel of destiny hung about him and he couldn’t help his grip from tightening on Malthael even as he tried to contain his misgivings. 

It would be okay. 

It would be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a murmur is starting up, starting to build up the tensions to come, the tricky little twists that are being laid out. Also getting more of the demons in the mix! How can anything go wrong now?


End file.
